Sea'scape
by kamelion
Summary: I have seen the moments of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, and in short, I was afraid. T.S. Eliot References to Hide and Seek and Before I Sleep. Now Chaptered. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

Authors notes: I started this fic several months ago, before there was news of "evil ancients" on the show Sg1, and before I found out there might be another city that resembles Atlantis in SGA season two. What follows may end up contradicting future episodes, this sprung from my head and has no bearing on what may come up. It may not even be a problem, but just in case. . .

Stargate Atlantis and all character associated with it are not mine. I claim only the plot. No money, just doing this because I like to torment my brain. This fic is complete, and a subsequent story is to follow. Thanks for reading!

"_I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,_

_And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,_

_And in short, I was afraid." _-T.S. Eliot

Consistency was one thing, but even too much of that led to a tedium that Dr. Rodney McKay abhorred. Take the view from Atlantis, for example. Water. All the time, in every direction. Even though he knew the waves that crashed below were technically new waves with a disturbingly limited lifespan, they looked the same. It was as predictable as the mandatory break he took from his duties, every morning like clockwork, to retch out his guts. He knew the city rocked on the waves like a buoy, his insides served as a perfectly reliable motion detector. This time of morning the waves were higher, his internal sensors were alerted, and he came out onto the balcony to vomit. Such was his accuracy that his staff knew not to call him four hours after breakfast, and to leave him alone for twenty minutes after. It was the most humiliating incommunicado a person could experience. "Where's McKay?" Looks at watch. "Oh yeah. Never mind." Idiots. He actually started finding barf bags on his desk half an hour before his scheduled disappearing act. A certain asshole, not to be (Kavanaugh) named, timed his morning break around him.

God, that water. He'd never seen such a great expanse of liquid; moving, churning, bouncing, waving. . .

He swallowed heavily.

His fingers closed around the tiny plastic canister in his pocket. He pulled it out, and popped a small white pill into his mouth, then eyed the few remaining. He wondered what the current medical stock was in Atlantis. He was scared to ask. Instead he replaced the canister, hiding it in the folds of his jacket. Now, give it ten, twenty minutes and he'd feel fine. All seasickness gone. Of course any chance of him staying out on the balcony for that long was remote, even if the sunset was enticing, even if the odd metallic smell of the city mingled with the salt air, reminding him of his childhood home near the bay in Vancouver; of the quiet days his dad spent tinkering in the garage, grease and tail pipes sprawled across the concrete floor. His dad was a mastermind. He could fix anything. Rodney often watched when he was little, handing him the various tools needed while they discussed his future.

Aw, who the hell was he kidding? Those days with his father were spent with his telling Rodney he needed to be more of a man, and to get his nose out of his, and he quoted, _'goddamn'_ books on occasion. His mom had been proud. His dad thought he was a freak of nature. They only thing they could agree on was a love of cars, but even that lead to debates and arguments, and eventually fights. Rodney was never good with a fight. So he took out his aggression in other ways, like convincing his teacher that building bombs in his basement was actually a productive activity. Ah, the memories. . .the industrious smell of burnt wires and chemical fusion mixed with the soft aromas of the distant sea. When he was older and went off to school, that particular moment in time remained with him, and he thanked his dad for driving him into the basement. When his dad passed, he tried his hardest to forget about it. But now, in this damned place as far from that house as one could get, the memory flooded him like the lower levels of the city during a storm.

He swallowed his nausea and fought the urge to go inside. What good were those damn pills if they took so long to work? He could go in and settle in his room with lunch by the time. . . 'no', he chided himself, 'no lunch, bad, _bad_ thought there, Rodney'. He gripped the rail with his left hand, leaned and propped his right elbow on it, and challenged the sea with his gaze. How long had he been standing there with the sea taunting him? The sea wasn't going to win. His pride wouldn't allow it.

"Considering taking a dive, McKay?" Wonderful. Just wonderful. That voice belonged to the very person he did _not_ want to see right now.

"Wouldn't you just love that," he muttered, but didn't even afford Major John Sheppard the level of spite he felt the remark deserved. He just stared out over the horizon, trying to convince himself that the water really wasn't as massive as it looked. It wasn't working very well.

"Not really, because I'd probably be the one to have to dive in after you." Sheppard leaned over, considering the waves below. "And that water's freezing."

Rodney eyed him. "You mean you'd come in after me?"

"Sure. Weir would have my ass if I didn't."

"Oh, well, I see how it is, then. Thanks."

"Yeah." John stood at Rodney's shoulder. His posture was loose and relaxed, suggesting he was at one with the water that lapped at the city below. Rodney envied him that, and he slumped over the rail, his cheeks puffing as he fought down another attack of nausea. John noticed. "You okay?"

"Not really, no." Rodney's voice was low, forced.

John took a step closer and peered at Rodney. "I think you're actually green."

"Just leave it, okay?"

"No, really, I've heard of people turning green, but I've never actually seen it before." He pushed his face towards Rodney's. "Fascinating."

"Look, Mr. Spock, go conduct your little scientific experiment on someone else, okay? I'm not a medical lab rat to be stared at."

"Who's staring?"

"I'll throw up on your shoes if you don't move. No, you know what, stand right there. I'd relish the chance to. . . ohgod. . ." He heaved, and John leaned him over the railing, closing his eyes and holding his breath, not wishing to witness the vomit hurling down hundreds of feet to the waters below. Or actually, there was city down there; one day he'd walk along and notice brown splotches where it had smacked the pavement, 'oh look! Rodney's vomit.' The poor man was doubled over the rail and hurling everything he'd eaten for the day. John stood slightly behind him, bracing his arm with one hand and patting his back with the other, and hoping to god no one could see them.

Rodney gasped for breath and straightened, his grip on the rail shaky. His face had regained a touch of color, but he was still pale. "Sorry."

"No problem."

"It's just that the sea makes me sick. All that pitching and churning. I've always been prone to sea-sickness, I hoped if I came out here and," he paused and swallowed heavily, "you know, got used to the rolling and such, maybe I'd cure myself."

"That's quite an undertaking, isn't it?"

"No choice. My pills are almost gone, along with the rest of the supply on Atlantis."

"Ouch. That's gotta suck." John really did sound sympathetic, and gave Rodney another pat on the back.

"Yeah. Anyway, sorry you had to see that. That is, unless it totally disgusted you, then I'd be pretty proud of what I did."

"Lord, McKay, I see that kind of thing all the time. Nothing you can do would shock me."

"No?" He sighed quietly. "Damn."

John just smiled. "Why don't you clean yourself up and meet me in Weir's office. Seems we've found a submarine of some kind."

Rodney looked up. "Excuse me, did you say 'found' a submarine? Just now?"

"Yep. Found a docking room and everything. Pretty impressive."

"And we're just now finding this? How could they possibly miss something as freakishly large as a submarine?"

"How the hell should I know? Maybe they were exploring this sector when we ran out of coffee. You know, that was rough."

"Yes, well, I suppose I could understand that. NOT. This isn't some penny in the street to be overlooked, Major, it's a submarine!"

"You don't pick up pennies?" He acknowledge the smirk. "Don't get your knickers in a knot, McKay. Or maybe with you I should say unknot them for a bit?" Rodney folded his arms, itching to comment. "Look, think of this as unexpected treat and take a break from your work."

"I suppose. Hate to waste the Dramamine I just took."

"Before or after you vomited?"

"What? Oh. . .damn." Rodney sighed and pulled out the pill bottle again. "Oh! Hey, look, don't tell Dr. Weir about this, okay?"

"Rodney, I think the whole station knows. . ."

"Then don't exacerbate it! Just say I was working on a very important problem that had me detained or something. Think you can manage that?"

"Sure. I'll tell her. . ."

". . .Tell her that I already heard about the submarine and was doing extensive research into the possible maritime nature of the Atlanteans."

". . .okay. I'll tell her that." John smiled slightly and walked off. Rodney cursed under his breath and pulled his shirt to his nose, taking a quick sniff. He winced and headed to the showers.

>

Dr. Elizabeth Weir was normally a very reasonable, patient woman, but even that was tried by McKay's tardiness. "What did you say was keeping him?"

"Extensive research on the possible maritime nature of the Atlanteans."

"_Possible _maritime nature? They built a city in the middle of the ocean!" She looked positively dumbfounded. "Why is he doing research now?" Her eyes widened slightly, and she unconsciously clenched the edge of the paper she held. "Please tell me he's not preparing a lecture."

"You know, I'm not sure if he is or not, but you should ask him about everything he was able find. . .you know, inflate his ego a little."

"Inflate? You're kidding, right?"

Sheppard shrugged. "He's been a little down, you know, feeling a bit homesick. I think he misses his dog."

"His dog."

"Yeah, uh, Napoleon. German Shepard."

"I didn't know he had a dog. Thought he was a cat person."

". . .right. Napoleon the cat. Very big cat, looks a lot like a German Shepard."

A smile threatened her face. "You know, Major, you should probably take the time to get to know your colleagues a little better."

"Rodney?"

"Yes, Rodney! Why not Rodney?"

"He's not exactly good reading."

"This from the man struggling through 'War and Peace'." Weir looked up as their topic of conversation entered. "Well, Rodney! Nice of you to join us!"

"Sorry, I was just, you know, I think maybe Major Sheppard here has told you all about it." The scientist sat down as nonchalantly as possible.

"And how is that research going, Rodney?" John asked pointedly.

"Hm? Oh, fine! Fine. Really interesting actually, but you don't want to hear about all that." He waved it away and looked at Elizabeth attentively.

"Actually, Rodney," Dr. Weir clasped her hands and leaned forward on the table, "I think we do."

"You do?"

"Yes, I think any information you may have would be very beneficial."

"You-you do? You do." A panicked expression flitted across his face, and he glanced at Sheppard, who was no help. Instead he waited expectantly. "Okay. Okay, well, as we know," he cleared his throat, "uh, the Atlanteans built this city to withstand the force of the water, whether it be under the sea or above it. And I think maybe these submarines have incredible durability based on the uh," he glanced at Sheppard, who blinked annoyingly, "the uh, preliminary designs of the city. They can probably dive much, much deeper than anything we have on earth, and therefore withstand amazing amounts of pressure. It would be worth examining the construction to see if there is any information we can send to Earth." Sheppard was sending him a look that defiantly said, 'that's the best you can do?'. And at the moment, with his pounding head and stomach that still leaned towards tight rebellion, and especially without having seen the sub, it was.

"That's an astute observation, Dr. McKay," Weir said. "Do you have anything else for us?"

"Else? You mean you want more?"

"Well, Major Sheppard did say you were involved in some pretty heavy research. Surely you have more for us than the obvious construction of these submarines."

"Well, of course I do! It's just not focused yet, I mean, one needs time to gather the information and put it into an intelligible format that even the peons down in the food center can understand, because you never know if something may happen and. . ." he looked at Weir, "I just," he looked at John, "I mean I uh," looked back at Weir, "I was on the balcony throwing up, okay?"

Weir gave an understanding smile. "I know, Rodney. Unfortunately, I saw you."

"You saw me?"

"There _are_ balconies all over Atlantis, even underneath the one you were standing on."

"Oh! Right." McKay brightened, then paled. "Oh god. Oh god, I am so sorry!"

"Never mind." Elizabeth smiled faintly. "I know enough to get out of the way."

"Oh god, this is embarrassing. . ."

"Why don't you see Dr. Beckett and ask for more pills?"

"I have the last five." Sheppard cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. McKay raised his chin as his gaze fell. "Four."

"Then we need another solution." She leaned over the table again, looking like a parent about to present a gift to a child. "Do you feel up to taking an underwater trip?"

"As long as the sub is as stable as this city and I don't have to stand on it."

"Then you're on the crew. Be ready to leave in two hours time. And Rodney. . ."

"Yes?" Rodney already had one foot out of the door.

"It's okay. I get seasick too."

Rodney ventured a rather non-convincing smile. "Great. That's. . .great. I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm trying to expel a lung." And with a half-hearted smirk he walked out.


	2. Chapter 2

"You have got to be kidding me." Rodney circled the craft, his hands upturned in a gesture of disbelief. "This is it?"

"This is it."

"This is a soda can!"

"You were expecting the Millennium Falcon?" John hoisted himself up onto the rather unstable makeshift platform and eyed the narrow opening of the submarine.

"In a word, yes!" He pounded the sub with the side of his fist. "Are you sure this thing is sea worthy?"

John peered down. "You wanna check the tires while you're at it? It's been tested, Rodney. It's fine."

"Tested? When?"

"Uh, yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Rodney stopped short in his tracks. "What do you mean yesterday, when was this thing found?"

"Uh. . ." John made a good show of thinking back, "'bout two days ago, I think."

"Two – TWO days ago? You've known about this for two days and I'm just now hearing about it?"

"You've been busy!"

"Busy! I should've been called the moment it was found! I should've been allowed to examine it for. . .for. . ."

"For what? _Zed_ PM's? Little green men? A bologna sandwich?"

Rodney faced John. "Now that was uncalled for."

"Look, we had a crew check it out top to bottom, Zelenka worked his magic, there's really nothing to. . ."

"Oh, so Zapatos knew about this and not me. I see then. . ."

". . .and _now_ you get to go down in the sub! What's the problem?"

"The problem is I thought I was a part of the premier team here, the SG1 of Atlantis, so to speak. I don't think it's wise for someone to make such an important discovery that would result in leaving me so completely and utterly out of the loop!" Despite his mouth pressed into a tight, irritated line, he looked crestfallen.

John gave up his ruse. "I'm kidding, Rodney. We've had it for six hours, you haven't missed a thing. In fact, it's just now been verified as a secure craft."

"Oh." Rodney chewed the inside of his cheek. "I see, so, you were just playing with me."

"Yeah."

"Just then. That-that was all fun for you."

John laughed. "It really was!"

"I'm so glad," Rodney muttered and climbed the ladder.

Teyla and Ford were already inside, tucked in like tamales in a can. Rodney banged his head on the low ceiling and cursed. "And I thought those damn puddle jumpers were tight!"

"He's not gonna complain the whole time, is he?" Ford cast a wary eye in Sheppard's direction.

"We'll just hit the eject button."

"Eject button?" Rodney leaned in. "This thing has an eject button?"

"McKay, sit down!"

Rodney pouted and took a seat near some blinking lights he didn't understand. Oh, wait, yes he did. He leaned in closely, and started as the submarine started to move. "What's that, what's happening?"

Sheppard turned to face him slowly, patiently. "They're pulling us to the launch room. The doors will close, the room will flood, and the bottom will fall out."

"This has been tested."

Sheppard gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Yeah, sure."

Rodney was unconvinced. "When?"

"Oh, about. . .right now." The door slid shut behind them, and the room started to fill.

There was a pleasant, and hidden, fact about the submarine. It wasn't just a tin can. Nor was it a metal, suffocating tube. The submarine had huge windows, like an underwater observatory. Of course no one knew this until Rodney casually leaned on a console that activated the view, nearly sending him into Teyla's lap. He actually sat there for a moment, in shock at being so close to her, then flushed and pushed away. He jerked his hands back in a panic when he realized just what it was he pushed on, which sent all sorts of signals to the wrong places. Teyla merely looked at him, one brow raised, but not impressed, and Rodney slumped in his seat. She could at least look surprised, but her expression was flat. No, not flat, she wasn't. . .he shook the dangerous thoughts from his head as metal frames slid down to reveal a watery world of deep blue and green hues. Large, multi-colored fish swam past, eyed them curiously, and moved on. More darted in and out of the water plants nestled along the large reef that led away from Atlantis, a finger pointing to an invisible dark horizon. Ford leaned his forehead against the glass, his cap tipping backwards, and grinned like a preschooler on an aquarium trip. "I feel like Captain Nemo."

"They knew how to build a ship, alright. Smooth as Italian leather." Sheppard was immensely pleased. His hands hovered over the controls, hardly touching the surface yet acutely aware of every motion and action the ship was taking. "Handles just like the puddle jumper." He eyed the display before him. "Wow. Rate of descent, seven knots and increasing."

Molestation incident having been dismissed, Teyla leaned in over them, her dark eyes wide with wonderment, her face relaxed into a beautiful smile. "It is quite breathtaking. I wonder if this was meant as a research vessel, rather than for transportation."

"Wouldn't surprise me." John was studying the controls, eyeing the descent rate. Yep. Smooth.

Rodney had folded in on himself, trying to become one with the console. "You've gotta see this." He tapped the controls in front of him. "The way this thing works, it actually takes water into the hull. That's why the sub is trapped inside an inner layer. Remember how odd it looked when we entered? We essentially crawled through the shell and into the core. So we take on water to descend. I wonder what's being used to equalize the pressure?" He tapped the screen again.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, McKay. Right now we check this baby out, see what she can do."

Rodney turned. "This isn't one of your toy planes, Major! You can't just see what she'll do, you have to be gentle and let her do what she wants. You called her a baby, well, baby her." He smiled. "Let her crawl along the bottom of the ocean and see what she stirs up."

The others stared.

Rodney turned away.

"So anyway," John continued, "let's crank her up a bit. Slowly. And she can explore the bottom all she wants to." And he hit the yellow tab.

The submarine suddenly lurched sideways, slamming its crew against each other. Rodney bellowed as he grabbed the console, "What the hell did you just do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Oh, so I guess the submarine just decided on its own to change course without consulting you! You're tapped into the thing, for god sake, what's it doing?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't a good thing."

"Not a good thing?" McKay snapped. "Last I checked subs aren't supposed to move like that!"

"Well apparently this isn't an ordinary sub, is it?" Warning lights were starting to flash, and John was starting to sweat. "Ford?"

"I don't know, sir! We got warnings everywhere but none of 'em's telling us anything!"

"Where the hell's the comm?" John cursed and hit the panel. "Dr. Weir! This is Sheppard, do you copy?"

There was static, then a faint voice. "Major Sheppard? What's wrong, we have some strange readings up here. I thought you said everything was going smoothly?"

"Well, everything was! But I hit something I shouldn't have, now this thing's flashing all sorts of warnings and I can't make heads or tails of it. What are you reading?"

"You're veering way off course. I take it the submarine is no longer under your control?"

John checked. "Negative! All controls are locked out," he glanced at Ford and got a nod, "and we're still going down. There's no way to stop it." He winced as the radio crackled. "Say again?"

"Johnson asked about the sub pressure."

"Uh. . ." John glanced at the panel just above him, "increasing. Rapidly." He swallowed. "This display's showing a spin like someone falling from the sky." He waited. "Dr. Weir?"

"One moment." There was a hesitation, and John assumed she was checking the readings. "Keep trying to regain control of the craft. Try to steady it at least. At your rate of descent you risk blowing the hull, do you understand?"

"Rate of descent?" John glance at the monitor. It too had an odd spin to it, and was impossible to read. "Crap." How could they be falling? They were in water, he sub wasn't that big, how could they be going down so fast? They had been descending at a fairly steady rate before this happened. . .McKay voiced his thought openly.

"If we're descending so rapidly, shouldn't we be hitting bottom? The ocean's not so deep here."

"Several hundred feet down. . .waitwaitwait, look!" John leaned forward and pointed to a large dark patch beneath them.

Ford leaned out of his seat. "What is that?"

"It's an abyss." Rodney's eyes were wide. "We scanned the waters for miles, how come this never showed up?"

"Because the city's holding out on us, and we needed something to discover. I don't know!"

Rodney leaned back. "Well. This is just great. We've launched from the lost city of Atlantis into the 'Abyss'. Keep your eyes peeled for large glowing jellyfish. Come to think of it, that was a spaceship that rose from the bottom of the sea, wasn't it?"

"Will somebody shut him up?"

Rodney ignored him, leaning forward again while straining to see into the darkness. "We're headed right for that, aren't we?"

By this time John was practically standing, looking into the abyss that yawned before them. "At least we won't crash anytime soon."

Rodney blinked at him in annoyance. "For some strange reason that thought fails to comfort me."

And that was when the hull blew one deck below.

"Shit!" Ford was practically leaning into the screen before him. "Major we have a breach. . ."

"I see it!" Sheppard pushed around his chair and away from the warning light that had suddenly turned into a death beacon. "Teyla, take over! Rodney, I need oxygen, look in that gear!"

"On it!" Rodney was frantically rummaging through the small trunk they had brought aboard.

Ford knew what Sheppard was planning, and was half out of his seat. "Sir! Let me, I've been diving since I was a kid!"

Sheppard looked incredulous. "You are a kid! I need you at the helm."

"Here!" Rodney pulled out the tank, and his jubilant expression fell. "You've got to be kidding!" The tank he pulled out was hardly fit for a child. "Probably doesn't have any air, either."

John snatched it and checked the gauge. "Dammit!"

Rodney sighed comically. "No air?"

John flung it down. "Dammit!"

"No air? There's really NO AIR in that thing?"

"Shut up, McKay, and give me a hand."

"Who the hell packed this sub? Who puts in tanks with no air?" He frantically dug around in the trunk as Sheppard passed him. His clipped shoulder sent him into a spin. "Wait, are you serious? You can't go in there without air!" They stood at the door that separated them from the incoming ocean by only two small rooms.

"I'm going to try and plug the breech, you. . .no wait, Ford changed my mind, get over here!" He jabbed a finger at Rodney. "You help Teyla."

"Major. . ."

"Now, McKay!"

Rodney practically snarled in anger and turned to go, then grabbed hold of Sheppard's arm. "Listen to me. Start taking deep breaths and hold it as long as you can, fill your blood with oxygen. Check the breach. If it's beyond repair, and I bet it is, you need to close the hatch between that room and the one beside us, and find an air intake valve. Understand? That room is going to flood fast, so you'll need to remember this. Deep breaths. Fill you lungs completely. You got that?" John met his eyes for a second and nodded. Ford looked impressed, but Rodney, for once, ignored it and shouldered past. "Get him ready, I'm going to see what can be done to get this sub back under control." He took Sheppard's seat, and cursed. "What the. . .this panel's black!"

"No kidding," Sheppard muttered, and disappeared through the first hatch.

Rodney cast a worried look in Teyla's direction, then tightened as her gaze refused to leave his.

"You may as well go too. He'll need all the help he can get." She gave a quick bob of her head and pushed from her seat. This left Rodney free to talk to the controls, unimpeded, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on.

>

"Sir, I've had training off Acapulco. I took free-diving, now come on!"

"I said no, Ford, and that's my final word!" Sheppard was staring at the hatch. He really didn't want to go in there.

"Well, everything McKay said was right. Take deep breaths. Hold them. Wonder how the hell he knew that?"

"Some people are just smart."

"Don't ever say that in front of him, sir."

"Don't worry." He glanced at Ford. "You ready?"

"Me? What about you? I just gotta stand here!"

"Yeah. . .right. Okay." He rolled his shoulders and inhaled deeply though his nose.

"Big breaths, sir."

Sheppard eyed him and started inhaling powerfully. Teyla joined them, her anxiety nearly hidden by her usual calm, but Ford could see the tension in her posture.

"Is he ready," she asked softly. Her answer was a nod from Ford, and the hatch opened.

Sheppard wasn't happy. What's more, he knew what he was attempting was stupid. He hurried into the next room as the hatch closed behind him, and activated the side control. He could hear the water rushing in, see it churning below him, watch it rise. Great. He slid down the ladder, trying in the back of his mind to remember if he'd seen a single ladder in the whole of Atlantis before today. As the frigid waters iced his body, he couldn't stop from yelping. "Christ!" He fingered the radio he still wore from Atlantis. "McKay, I'm here! The breach is in the level below us. It's too large, the water's coming in too fast! We need to just seal off the room! McKay?"

There was a burst of static before a frantic voice replied, "Do it then! And get the hell outta there!"

"Don't have to tell me twice." He had turned to go back up the rungs when the sub suddenly jolted, hurling him into the waters below. The cold stiffened his body, rendering him useless, and several painful moments passed before he was able to grip the ladder. But by this time he was floating up through the hatch, and water was pooling into the room above. On the other side of that closed door was Ford, and two doors past that, the bridge. The room was filling fast. He tried to secure the hatch to the room below him, but nothing happened. A control, there had to be a control somewhere. . .the water was rising. He couldn't find a damn thing. They would have to seal off that room as well, and hope somehow they could stop their descent. "Ford! Open up!"

"Sir!" The voice was faint through the bulkhead.

John ran his fingers over the panel, but nothing happened. "Try your end!" He eyed the water rushing into the room from below, jetting up like a fountain releasing pressure. "Come on, open up!"

"We're trying, sir!"

"_Trying_? What do you mean, trying?" He made a conscious effort not to pound his fist through the door, and cued his comm, hoping it remained as waterproof as it was supposed to. "McKay!"

"What?"

"I can't get out, the door's jammed!"

"What do you mean it's jammed?"

"Dammit McKay, see if there's some kind of override!"

He could picture the concern on McKay's face. "Won't that flood the whole sub?"

"MCKAY!"

"Okay, okay!"

Rodney, two rooms over, started his search. He slipped and fell against the bulkhead, jumping as the ship jarred. "What the. . .shit!" Rodney drew his hands back then braced himself as the sub rocked sickeningly. "Subs are NOT supposed to do this!" he yelled to no one, and launched toward the control panel. The few lights that had come back on blinked at him mockingly, daring him to pick the correct sequence. "Okayokay, manual override, manual override, manual override. . .shit!"

"Rodney!"

"I'm working on it!" Okay McKay, breathe. Think. Thrust is there, shift, aft. . .dammit!

"Rodney?"

"Just gimme a minute! I was too busy saving the world the day they taught sub tech classes, okay?" Okay. Not this panel. Stupid, why not this panel, wouldn't it make sense to just. . .nonononono okay here then. . ."

"McKay! What the hell did you just do?"

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Rod. . ."

"I got it I got it I got it! Hold your breath and duck!"

"_What?"_

"Just do it! Trust me, I got this!"

"So help me, McKay. . ."

"Now! _Go_!" He lifted a lid, and threw a tiny lever.

>

"Now! _Go_!"

John Sheppard, staunch man of the air, held his breath and submitted to the pull of the water. Everything stilled around him, not bad really, rather peaceful. He heard a faint gurgling sound, and reached upwards, feeling for the ceiling. There it was, half a foot over his submerged head, and there was no air. The water was up, he was through the hatch, and could go no further. That made him wonder vaguely what would happen to the water that was trying to rush in. Would it find another way into the sub? Burst through the hull elsewhere? Maybe it would get shoved back out to sea, where it would stop the water flowing in and plug itself. Sure, John. Keep on thinking that. His lungs were starting to burn, his body was aware that he hadn't taken a needed breath and was giving him painful reminders. A thick band formed around his chest, and his body fell into tight rebellion. Hell, he wasn't really a diver. Barely passed that part of the qualification. . .god. . .he needed to take a breath. Don't think that, John. For the moment, no breathing allowed. He felt around the hull, praying for anything that held air, a tube, anything. Intake valve, what the hell had Rodney been thinking? There was nothing. Dammit McKay! Trust you? Panic was setting in as he forced himself not to take a breath, but it was like holding back a bull. His body jerked, his head felt numb. His neck ached, and he held his hands over his nose and mouth. No sucking water. Sucking water not allowed. What a way to go, goddammit, MCKAY!

He felt his body lurch sideways, and allowed it, for the water was suddenly traveling. His head banged against something hard and he was flushed out of the compartment, slamming into a wall and getting a face full of gushing spray. He sputtered, coughed, gagged, trying to catch a much needed breath, but the liquid just wouldn't subside. He was still drowning; he could feel the sting in his lungs and the lack of air reaching them, felt the unresponsiveness of his limbs from the cold shock. There was a yell and a strong grip on his arm, and he grabbed it, clung to it, prayed to it, would have had sex with it if it could just get him the fuck out of there. His name was called, and repeated, but he couldn't answer, but was aware of his body being dragged, bumping over something hard, and heard yells to seal the hatch. He rolled over, aggressively vomiting the water that had been forced into his system. Hands clutched the back of his shirt, then his shoulders.

"Easy, sir! It's okay, you're safe. Everything's okay, just relax, breathe." The voice hovered before him, and he still felt a grip that refused to let go. John turned his head. "Ford?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I could kiss you."

"I don't think so, Sir. But thanks anyway."

John nodded, still gasping for air, and let his body go limp. The other presence settled beside him and rubbed his back and shoulders gently, then helped pull him to his knees, still leaning him over as he gulped cubic pounds of cherished air. "Teyla," he choked.

"I'm here."

"Didn't work. . ."

"We will find another way."

"Couldn't. . .I couldn't find the control. Couldn't find anything, then the door jammed. . ."

"I know."

"T-tell the truth, it scared me."

"It scared us as well." But she sounded so damn calm.

Rodney's voice sounded over their radios, panicked and irritated. "Teyla! Ford. . .come in! Didn't it work?"

"It did, Dr. McKay, he is back with us. You did well," Teyla affirmed.

"Oh, thank god," they heard him breathe, "Thank god. I was running out of ideas."

"I'm fine, Rodney, thanks for asking," John groused, though he knew Rodney's relief wasn't due only to his achievement.

"Don't mention it," McKay replied over the radio, and Teyla grinned.

Rodney was frantically punching buttons and passing his hands over the odd controls when the rescuers and rescuee returned to the bridge. He did give John a good up and down glance, confirming with his own eyes that he did something right, and grimaced as he stood and walked to the opposite chair. "Since the breach was unable to seal on the lower deck, this inevitably means one of two things will happen." He paused for dramatic effect and spun his chair to face the others.

"Well?" John pressed, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Well, we're still gaining water, and there's nothing we can do about it. So one, we sink like a brick. . . or. . ."

John shivered, his long arms wrapped around himself. "Or?"

"Or we float like one."

"Great." John sighed and looked at the lit console before him. They were definitely plummeting. Outside, the abyss swallowed them whole. "No radio contact yet?"

"Negative." Ford was back at this station. "Not at this depth; best we can do is try to ping and see if we can get their attention back on Atlantis."

"Ping? Does this thing have a ping?"

Ford shrugged.

"Okay. This is ancient technology. I can use ancient technology. I should be able to get us out of this, right?" John sat and stared at the panel before him, feeling McKay at his shoulder.

"Oh sure, go for it. With any luck your genetics and this superior Ancient technology can be combined to achieve a purpose other than running a coffee machine!"

Sheppard turned. "It was damn good coffee, and we needed it!"

"It was sediment from an oil can!"

"McKay, some constructive information would be helpful right about now."

"Okay, fine, how's this for constructive?" He leaned in. "You have eight minutes to work your miracle. This wonderfully advanced hull integrity just blew to hell, the lower level's completely flooded, and the hatch separating us from certain death is less than seven inches thick. It isn't going to withstand the pressure forced upon it at this depth, so either get that magic going, or we're dead!"

"Yeahokay, that helped, thanks." John stared wide-eyed at the console. And waited. For a while. Continued to. . ."Okay. . .got a whole lot of nothing going on here. . ."

"Even if you could get this thing operational, you can't get us to the surface. The change in pressure would just cause more ruptures. This thing's too heavy to withstand that." There was a note of finality in McKay's voice, making John turn and look at him. The face that looked back was frighteningly calm. He had already prepared himself, and the fear in his eyes showed it wasn't an easy task.

"We're not dead yet." John turned back to the panel. "How rapid is our descent?

"There's no way to tell. Care to stick your head out and see? Or should I just pop out there and push us to the surface?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Sir, we've gotta touch bottom soon at this point," Ford said. He glanced at the depth meter, then charted their path. "We're not falling straight down either."

"No, of course not," Rodney muttered, "there would be some sort of current, even this deep, created by our descent if nothing else, plus this is a mass going through a mass, therefore. . ."

"Will you shut up!"

"Fine." Rodney turned away.

"Okay. Going at an angle, pitch. . .here. Look, look at this." He pointed to the lit screen before him. "There's something here."

"What?" Rodney returned and looked over John's shoulder. Teyla and Ford did the same.

"Yeah, yeah, see? What do you make of that?"

"That looks. . .too organized to be a natural structure." Rodney leaned closer. "Oh my god. . ."

"Yeah, that's what I think too. Give or take four minutes. . .and we'll crash right into it."

The team exchanged looks of apprehension. Then everyone started talking at once, their voices overlapping each other.

"Anyone got a stopwatch?"

"If we crash, do you think it'll flood the city?"

"Maybe they have some kind of failsafe, to be this deep. . ."

"We need to try and reinforce the hull. . ."

"With what? Band-Aids?"

"I don't know!"

"Major!" Teyla pointed. There was a blip of light on the screen.

"What the. . ." John turned as all hell broke loose.

The water was frigid. His extremities instantly numbed. He heard McKay cry out as he smashed back against the console, then fell under. John forced his way to the man's side and pulled him upright, watching as he gasped for his last few breaths. Rodney gave him a grateful look, a steady look, one that would live with him, if he were to live. . .he saw Teyla holding on to Ford, who looked frantic but tried not to show it. . .the hull creaked, his ears popped, and everything disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean, it's gone?" Weir's palms pressed her anxiety into the table before her.

Johnson shook his head. "We've lost the signal." He turned in his chair. "At the rate they were descending, I doubt the sub will remain intact." His voice was direct, yet courteous.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Those things have amazing structural integrity, how could it just. . ."

"The depth and rate of descent would have destroyed a regular submarine much sooner than this. The sub showed signs of advanced design, yes, but even it would succumb to the pressure."

"Nothing is indestructible."

"No, Ma'am." Johnson's expression was difficult to read, something between disappointment and fear.

Oh god. Ohgodgodgod. . . "So, they drowned?" Her voice was small.

Johnson couldn't even bring himself to say it. He turned back to the screen.

Elizabeth straightened. Some personnel were looking at her, others pointedly looking away. All had sorrow written on their faces, and shock. One lady allowed herself to bury her head into the shoulder of Lt. Tyler. Weir surveyed the faces before her, and cursed herself for allowing her best team down there. Of course, it wasn't like they never encountered risks, but she felt personally responsible for this one. "Johnson," she said quietly, "keep scanning the waters. They may have had a way out, or maybe because of the depth, our readings are skewed."

"Yes Ma'am." That was Johnson's only reply, not 'you're crazy', or 'vain hope', because every person in that room was willing to entertain the possibility that their premier team survived.

She turned and called out above her. "Lt. Makers!" A soldier leaned over the balcony. "You were a part of the recon team that found the submarine, correct?"

"Yes Ma'am." Lt. Frank Makers' heavy voice rumbled soothingly. "We were exploring near the fifth tier."

"What are the chances of finding another one?"

Makers shrugged. "It might take some time, but surely this place didn't have just one sub."

"My thoughts exactly, Sgt. Get a team together and start your search. Consider this a search and rescue, I want every person you have available looking, is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" And he gave her a salute, which put her in mind of Ford, the only other one who bothered giving her the respect.

She choked back her sadness and faced Johnson. "Keep looking. They could be in an incapacitated sub, and if so, we need to get to them as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth nodded and stood idly. Slowly she allowed herself a few steps back, to hide within the shadows.

>

The room was pink. Or grey. Or glass. . . but very warm, very soothing, very dry. And so very _not_ a part of the sub. John Sheppard groaned and pushed himself up onto his knees. His head was a lead weight, threatening to tip him forwards. The room spun like a tilt-a-whirl.

He fell over onto his side and grunted, his muscles tight, his breath harsh in his chest. Apparently his body wasn't ready to face the fact that he wasn't dead. He really wasn't dead, was he? He rolled onto his back to find a pair of large eyes looking down at him. The yell that burst forth proved he was suddenly very conscious, and he jolted to a sitting position while scurrying backwards, but nothing was there. Okay, he told himself, just an illusion, lack of oxygen. Breathe.

The simple concept of keeping one's breath seemed to be the recurring mantra of the day, but then again it seemed everything was determined to relieve him of it. His nausea mounted as he looked around, spying a familiar form curled in the far corner. "McKay?" John quickly skidded in his wet clothes over to the still body and leaned over him. Like John, he was soaked through, and pale, almost transparent in the odd light. Turning him onto his back was easy, the man was a limp rag. His arm flopped uselessly to the ground, his face slack. "McKay!" He placed his ear to the man's chest and listened, then put his palm just in front of Rodney's nose, feeling for air.

"Good man," he sighed with relief. He patted McKay's cheek, darting nervous glances around the room. "Now come on, wake up. Come on." The patting continued with increasing force. "Dammit McKay, come on! Wake up! Rodney!" He placed his hand on Rodney's and waited, then leaned forward again as he felt, rather than heard, the impending groan. "That's it, come on. Open your eyes. Come on, open your damn eyes!" And Rodney did, slowly, then blinked rapidly as he stared at the ceiling.

"I'm dead. I'm dead, aren't I?" he croaked painfully. His eyes scanned the crystalline ceiling. "I'm in heaven."

John sighed. "Not heaven, Rodney."

The physicist turned his head. "Oh. . .oh no. . ." a mournful groan escaped his lips. "No. . . hell, I'm in hell. . ."

"What?"

"I mean, you're here. . .so we're in hell, right?"

"Fuck you!" John shoved him away. He sat back on his heels, disgruntled. "How are you?" he asked reluctantly.

Rodney sat up slowly, pressing his hands to his head. "Oh, great. I'm good. Just stuck somewhere between death warmed over and freezing like a homeless Eskimo." He teetered in his upright position for a moment, then squinted around him. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "Wait. Wait, we're not really. . .where is everyone? Shouldn't we be surrounded by medical personnel?" He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head, then opened them and sent a despairing glance to Sheppard. "I can't remember anything, what do you remember?"

Sheppard was still glaring. "I remember trying to save your sorry ass before we died!"

"But we're not dead, we can't be." Rodney was looking around in confusion. "No, this isn't right. Not unless heaven, or hell, is an exact duplicate of Atlantis."

John looked around again, and slowly stood. The room did look eerily like the control room of Atlantis, only there was no central Stargate for the upper level to look down upon. The color was wrong. And somehow this place was lit within, not by the usual light panels and such, but by a steady glow within the walls themselves. Not bright, just pleasant. Just enough to see. "McKay," John asked softly, "what happened to us?"

"You're asking me?" Rodney was standing now, bracing himself against one of the oddly lit walls.

"Don't you have all the answers?"

"As a matter of fact. . .look, where's Ford and Teyla?"

Sheppard snapped to attention, and his shock at being alive and in, well, not Atlantis, abated. "Lt. Ford! Can you hear me? Teyla?" He waited.

"Try your radio."

"What? Oh, right. . . Lt Ford, come in. Do you read, Lieutenant?" He paused, then tried again. "Teyla, can you hear me?" Static, and barely that.

Rodney tapped his earpiece. "Ford, this is McKay. Do you copy? Teyla? Helloooo, anyone receiving me?" His hand dropped listlessly to his side. "Nothing."

"I guess we go look for them."

"Unless they're still on the sunken sub, what's left of it."

But John shook his head. "No. Whatever brought us here must have brought them, too."

"And they just happen to get off the elevator at a different floor?" Rodney winced, then squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his mind to cooperate. "So. . .where do we start?"

"I don't know." John eyed the stairs that led to the second level. He took them three at a time and hurried over to a schematic display filled with pinks and blues. "This layout looks just like the one we're used to," he called down. "This really is a duplicate city."

Rodney found his balance and pushed away from the wall, joining John moments later at the controls. He gave the schematics a once over. "Huh. Who'd of thunk."

"My question is why." He looked around in puzzlement. "And where is everybody?"

"That question crossed my mind, and you know, I think I'll ponder a bit more on it once those eyes stop staring at me." He swallowed and John snapped his head up. Rodney's uncertain gaze was fixed on the spot below them where the Stargate should have been. And in its place were two very large, very black, very evil eyes. John realized the morbid stare he encountered when he woke wasn't a result of an oxygen-depraved imagination. Those eyes were very real.

John slowly backed away from the controls and walked to one side. The menacing eyes followed; huge and curved upward in a threatening arch, like a malicious smile. He almost expected to hear a predator's growl from somewhere deep within the shadows, but there was no sound. None at all. John felt a chill creep up his back. "Amazingly quiet here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I noticed that." Rodney could barely be heard, his voice was so low, yet it sounded like a shot in the dark.

"You think maybe that's some kind of viewing device?"

"Eyes? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah, I meant a viewing device for someone else, someone who is very conspicuously not here."

"Could be, I suppose." Rodney was walking in the other direction, and the eyes followed him. "It's still looking at me."

"It's looking at me too."

"How can it be, we're on opposite ends of – waitwait, I know. I know what this is."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Care to share?"

"You remember those statues that are carved in a sort of reverse relief, where if you walked from one side to another the eyes always seemed to follow you?"

Sheppard had stopped moving, and his eyes darted from the evil ones to those of McKay. "Yeah, I guess. I mean I've heard of it."

"It's real, believe me, my Aunt Clara had one of Jesus that would scare your dinner out of you. She kept it on the mantle, I always hated going in that room. I couldn't touch anything, and then this morbid representation of Jesus would be staring at me, just waiting for me to do something wrong so he could damn me for eternity. . ."

"Rodney. . ."

". . .I think. . .I think this is a relief carving."

"You think?"

Rodney's arms dropped in frustration. "Well, I'm kinda far away, so it's hard to tell the specific detailing from here."

"Care to go down, then?"

"Care to come with me?" The question was asked with a remaining hint of uncertainty.

John joined Rodney, his eyes warily watching those that watched him, and together they slowly walked down the stairs to the main level. The eyes grew larger as they approached, taking up the entire back wall. They glared down at the men, almost glowing in angry intensity. The two men hesitated, until Rodney braved a few steps forward.

The eyes stared down at him. He took another step. The eyes continued to stare. And they stared as Rodney walked right beneath them and tapped on the wall. "I was right," he said as he studied the wall. "It's carved right into the surface. Not sure if this is meant to be a deterrent or maybe some sort of iconic figure, but either way we aren't being watched." He turned with a smile, which dropped at the sight of John's panicked face.

"McKAY!"

Rodney looked up just as a heavy mass swooped down for him. He slammed himself back against the wall, the force knocking him to the floor. It swooped again, lower and more loosely, knocking sideways into the wall above him, raining debris over the body that was yelling while trying desperately to fold in on itself, and hide.

John looked about for a weapon, for anything, but found nothing. He ran to a panel that controlled the auxiliary power in the Atlantis he knew, and pressed the lit panels. The swinging soon stopped to reveal a large claw-looking rail which had dipped from the ceiling above. John waited to make certain it was still before running to Rodney.

The man was buried under a good portion of the wall. John cursed and started shoving large chunks of – was it plaster– aside, and bent down. "Rodney?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm okay. . ." the man gasped as he rolled, and lay there, stunned. John couldn't blame him. He cleared off the rest of the debris. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know. Can you stand?"

Rodney was staring upwards. "Hey, the wall stopped glowing." He winced and gave his head a shake.

"Come on, get up. . ." John grabbed McKay's arm and looped it over his shoulder. McKay stepped down gingerly. It was obvious that whatever his injury was, it wouldn't incapacitate him. They hurried towards one of the doors, stopping once to look back as it slid open. The eyes still watched menacingly, the metallic claw bent at an odd angle, reaching for them. They rushed into the nearest corridor.

"Okay, we're out, stopstopstop." Rodney detached himself from Sheppard's grip and slid to the floor.

John bent over him. "Sure you're okay?"

"Major, while I'm sure this level of excitement is standard practice for uniformed adrenaline junkies, it isn't for me. I've narrowly avoided death twice in the space of ten minutes. Just give me a second, will you?"

John gave a nod. "So what was that thing?"

"An intergalactic representative from Wells Fargo. How the hell should I know?"

"I mean, was it just a statue of some kind? Did it break, or is that meant to scare people away?"

"I neither know, nor care. I just want to find the others and get the hell out of here."

John nodded his agreement. "You good to go?"

He could see a coarse remark trying to surface, but instead McKay stifled it with an effort and pushed away from the floor. "Yeah, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

There had been no word from the sub. Weir's fists were bunched, but she fought to keep herself in check. She wanted nothing more than to tear herself bald and scream at the top of her lungs. Instead, she walked with arms folded before her, with sharp grey eyes watching every movement around her.

"Dr. Weir! We're reading an unusual power surge. I can't pin down the exact location, but it isn't coming from any of our primary systems." Randall Hiassen cursed under his breath and jabbed at the console with more force than was advisable.

"What kind of power surge?" The slight woman leaned over the technician with the authority of a person three times her size.

"I don't know, the readings are off the scale, but at the moment this seems to be the only sensor picking it up." He learned over to Johnson. "You getting this?"

"Nothing. All normal here."

"Are you sure this isn't just a technical glitch?" Weir asked.

Hiassen shook his head. "No ma'am, I ran a check on this thing myself yesterday. As far as we know it should work like a charm."

A finely arched eyebrow raised. "As far as we know?"

"Well, with all due respect, something's going on that your little drills haven't prepared us for."

"That's an everyday occurrence." Weir walked to the transmission station. "Still no word from the sub?"

"No ma'am, there's. . .hang on. . .Johnson, you've got to be getting this now. . ."

"Yeah yeah, huge power source heading right for us, I said right for us, marking it at. . ." he threw his arm across his eyes as the room went blinding white.

Weir fell back against the console, her face turned away, her eyes screwed tightly shut. She could feel the heat of the light on her body, like standing beside a flame, and knew when it had disappeared. The station seemed much darker when she opened her eyes, glanced around, and started checking the diagnostic systems. "What the hell?"

Hiassen was running all sorts of checks that she could neither follow nor understand. "I don't know, but everything looks fine. . ." his head snapped up as someone yelled out from below. Curious personnel leaned over the railing, then with a delayed reaction, because they hadn't actually expected to see anything, they created a mass exodus, stomping quickly and heavily down the stairs. Weir managed to peer over the edge, to see both Teyla and Lt. Ford laying motionless at the base of the Stargate.

She wanted to throw herself over the rail, but instead settled for shoving people aside as she ran to them. "Back off! Everyone back away," she keyed her radio, "medical, I need people here right now!" The bodies looked to be unharmed, but past experience had demonstrated that looks were not only deceiving, but were a downright lie. She pressed her fingers to Ford's neck, then to Teyla's. "Breathing, thank god. . ." she looked up as a nurse who had been passing nearby quickly bent over the two. "Dr. Beckett's on his way," she said to Weir, "I heard the call, what happened?"

Dr. Weir shook her head. "I wish I could tell you! They were supposed to be on a submarine. There was some kind of energy surge, and a blinding flash. . .and they both appeared right here." The nurse passed a look of skepticism before listening to Ford's heart rate. Elizabeth felt a moment's irritation at the nurse's disbelief, then felt herself physically pushed out of the way as more medical staff showed, including Beckett. Hands were everywhere, the prone bodies vanishing in a medical mele. They were loosely hoisted onto waiting gurneys and rushed to the infirmary before she had time to process the recent event in her mind. She remained frozen to the spot, confused, watching the gurneys roll away. A familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Dr. Weir, what the bloody hell happened here?" Dr. Carson Beckett had stayed behind, affording Elizabeth a moment before following his patients. His voice was soft and perplexed, an emotion that was mirrored on her face.

Elizabeth turned, glad for the subtle reassurance the doctor seemed to emanate without trying. "I don't really know. Are they going to be all right?"

"From what I saw I believe so, but I have to run some tests." He seemed wary of presenting his question, and paused, ". . .did I hear you say that they appeared in front of the Stargate in a flash of light?"

If there was disbelief in his voice, he hid it well. "During some kind of energy surge," Weir responded. "I have no idea what it was."

"We'd better check for radiation then, since we don't know the source of the energy."

Elizabeth pulled away from her shock as her professionalism roughly kicked in. "Yes. We should probably scan the entire station as well."

"And another thing," again there was a hesitation, ". . . didn't John and Rodney go on that sub as well?"

Weir's eyes widened. Such was her astonishment at having the two dumped on her in such a fashion that she hadn't even had time to wonder. . . "Oh my god."

"Aye." Beckett gave her a sympathetic look. "Look, I'll let ya know as soon as I've revived Lt. Ford and Teyla."

'Thank you, Doctor." Weir gave him a small smile, then turned to the room, all business. "I want a full scan of the waters around Atlantis, as far and deep as you can go, now!" She tapped her radio. "Makers! Any luck finding the submarine?"

Her radio crackled. "Haven't had much time, Ma'am."

"We've just had Lt. Ford and Teyla dumped on our doorstep. Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay are still out there."

"We're going as fast as we can, Dr. Weir."

"Understood." Of course they were. Hell, they probably just now got to the levels where the other sub was found. Patience, Elizabeth, she told herself. Have patience.

>

"Okay, look," John said sharply. Rodney was tired of walking, and the slowing stride made John fractious. He continued, "We need to find Ford and Teyla and get out of here. That means picking up the pace, got it?"

"Do I look like a tri-athlete? What makes you think they're even here? They're probably drinking saltwater slurpies by now."

"Not one for understating a possibility, are you, McKay?"

"I'm just saying. . ."

"Shut up." John stopped in his tracks and held his hand against Rodney's chest, forcing him to a sudden stop as well.

Not again. It took a moment for Rodney to realize this wasn't a reprimand. He glanced down at the hand on his chest, then at John. "What? What is it?"

There was a pause. "You hear that?"

". . .no."

"Shut up and listen, then!"

"I AM listening. . .what's. . ." John's fingers splayed then grabbed hold of Rodney's shirt in a death grip. With a violent shove he pushed the man behind a pillar and slammed him against the wall, covering his mouth. His chest pressed again Rodney's, forcing him still; the hazel eyes were but inches from his own.

"So help me god," Sheppard whispered slowly, "I'll blow your head off if you don't shut the fuck up!"

"Mmph."

Rodney didn't like what he was seeing. He was the one with the ultra-heightened instinct for survival, not Major Sheppard. John's eyes were wide and darted about the room, and Rodney did his best to follow the quick movements. The walls were flat and shiny, nothing remarkable about them, except he noticed they weren't as bright as the walls in the room they were just in. The ceiling was high, but gave a sense of heaviness. In fact, everything around them seemed heavy, as though the walls bending towards them, bearing the sorrowful weight of a thousand years of a thousand lost souls. It took every nerve he had not to sink to the floor.

But John held him upright, motionless, his mouth still covered, and Rodney could feel the man's panicked breathing against his own chest. He dared to slowly raise his hand, clasping John's wrist gently before pulling the hand away. Serious eyes told John he wouldn't breath a word. John nodded and backed away, and the two men cautiously edged towards the doorway which sat open across the room, both unwilling to disturb anything, whether by action, sound, or thought. It wasn't until they were through that the tension eased, and John slumped with a sigh so despairing that his shoulders sagged. Rodney found himself guiding his loose body to the floor. "Major?" The snapped question brought John back to himself.

"I'm okay."

"You want to tell me what the hell just happened?" Rodney looked scared. His light eyes probed John's darker ones.

The major slowly shook his head. It was several moments before he could say anything. "I don't know. It was just. . .oppressive. Like something was watching us, something very big and very bad." His eyes sought Rodney's. "You telling me you didn't feel it?"

"Not that specifically, no, just you crushing the life out of me." His eyes quickly scanned the major, who seemed for the moment perfectly content to sit right where he was. Which was. . .where?

Rodney stood and looked the room over. It was dark, very dark, even darker than the one they had just abandoned. A horseshoe shaped area of consoles in the center of the room caught his attention. Only a few lights blipped on the center panel, and curiosity drew Rodney in closer, pushing him to take a seat and examine the controls. "Can you stand yet?"

"Almost."

"Then get over here." He waited until he felt John's presence at his shoulder. "Work your magic, huh? This stuff's unresponsive for me."

"Really gotta get you trained in using that gene." John switched places with the scientist and popped his fingers, then stretched his hands across the center panel. More circuits bleeped to life.

"You think I like asking for help?" Rodney leaned in. "Any of this familiar?"

"No. You?"

"No, me neither. Look, try pressing a few things, see if we can get a screen, or some kind of visual, or a map or something."

"You want me to just start pressing random buttons?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I would do it, but this technology won't respond to me, now will it?"

"Yadda yadda yadda." John hesitated, then passed his hands over the controls. After a moment a screen slid into view. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Rodney rubbed his palms together briskly. His enthusiasm ebbed into astonishment. "My god. It really is laid out just like Atlantis, all of it."

"Except for the fact that where the Stargate should be, it isn't."

"I wonder why."

"Personally I'm hoping it's somewhere else."

Rodney's head turned. "You think there's another gate somewhere on this station?"

John kept flipping through the screens. "It's an Ancient city. There'd better be one."


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth Weir stood beside Teyla's bed and looked down at the younger woman. She appeared perfectly peaceful, sleeping off a good meal, perhaps, and now enjoying a dream. Her eyes were relaxed, as was her mouth. She looked even younger than usual. Elizabeth never ventured to guess at her age; the Athosian was obviously younger than her, and lately that was something she didn't care to think about. Not since her experience with her alternate self, her aged self, that had been discovered deep in the bowels of Atlantis. Was it tantamount to suicide, watching yourself die? It brought her own mortality to her in a blinding, crude light that she was unable to escape, and yet it was so surreal that she was able to convince herself, as the young often do, that yes, she would live forever. Of course, she wasn't so young. Not that she wasn't old by any means. But to have the poise of the woman warrior before her, to have that authority and confidence and self-assuredness. . . 'Funny how growing older can make one grow wiser, and yet fundamentally we are the same as when we were children', she thought. She wanted to reach down and brush a strand of russet hair from Teyla's brow, but kept her hand tight to her side. She had enough inner issues, she wasn't going to allow her mothering nature to bring her insecurities to the forefront. Instead she turned away and confronted Dr. Beckett with a professional look, her brows raised inquiringly. "How is she?"

Beckett raised his own brows slightly and nodded to his patient. "As you can see, resting comfortably," he said, conversationally. "All tests showed nothing unusual, whatever happened they are both sleeping it off just fine." Carson walked to Ford's bedside. "No signs of radiation. No injuries. No elevated blood pressure, no evidence of alien substances, all scans read normal, and that includes heart rate and brain activity."

"So. . .they're just sleeping."

"Well, it is a deep, healing sleep. It's nothing to be concerned about, if anything it'll be beneficial. I know with this new threat from the Wraith, no one has been sleeping as they should, myself included."

Elizabeth smiled and reached out for him. He walked to her, and she took his arm and squeezed it lightly. "You're too good for us, you realize that?"

Beckett was surprised, and more than a little embarrassed. He chuckled. "Och, now, I have my doubts about that. . ."

"I'm serious, Carson. I think we take you for granted, and we shouldn't."

Carson tried to meet her eyes. "Pardon my asking this, but. . .are you quite all right?"

Elizabeth pulled away. "Of course. Why?"

"Just, you've never talked to me like that before. I-I mean it's wonderful, I appreciate it and I don't want you to think I feel I'm taken for granted, but. . .you have to admit, this is unusual conversation for us." His Scottish brogue rolled soothingly into the air.

Maybe that was what Weir needed. His was such a calming presence, from his speech to his gentle nature. She had yet to see the bear inside of him, though she knew it was there. She could sense it, after hours in his office, when he lost a patient. "These are unusual times."

"You feel guilt over what's happened, and you're searching for reconciliation. That's it, isn't it?"

"I was paying you a compliment!"

"Aye, but I haven't done anything!" Carson pointed to the beds, each in turn. "I've done nothing to save their lives, I've not stitched them up, and with the exception of running tests, I've barely touched them! You act as though I've discovered the bloody grail with your gratitude." His concern for Weir disguised any irritation he felt at her behavior.

Weir tried to speak, but no words came. She crossed her arms and turned back to Teyla, feeling his warmth behind her. "Look. I know you're worried about Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay," he said softly, "I am as well. And I know these few weeks have been hard, I can't even begin to imagine what you've been going through. But it's evident that you're still going through it, and I think you need some help." He pinned her frustrated glance with a warning in his own eyes, he wasn't backing down from this. "There is no shame in asking for help, Dr. Weir. What you went through, our brains are not capable of dealing with. Not alone. You shouldn't have to try."

"You think that's what all this is?" Weir gestured to the beds. "You think I'm coming here to hide from my guilt? From my fear?"

"I think you're compounding it by trying to confront it in this way." Carson's voice lowered as Teyla shifted. "I could be wrong, Elizabeth, but I've seen the way you look at Teyla now. It is as though she possesses something you desperately, desperately want. And that isn't like you at all."

"It's not that, it's. . .look at them. They're both so young. When did I start feeling older than everyone else?"

Carson smiled. "I believe we are a similar age, Elizabeth, and Patterson and Wayward both have at least ten years on you." Patterson and Wayward were surgeons that were brought to Atlantis, hand picked by Carson himself.

"But to see. . ." Weir's thoughts drifted back to the dying woman, her own self in another time, preserved only to perish. . . "I keep wondering if I'll look like that, like her. Or even if I'll live that long."

He took her elbow gently. "Please, and I'm asking as a friend. Go and see Heightmeyer. You need to get this off your chest."

Weir kept watching Teyla, realizing she did not want to be there when the woman woke. She had no idea why. "I have work to do, a sub to find. Call me when there's any change."

"Elizabeth. . ."

But Weir walked out, leaving the conversation behind her.

She found Hiassen at his station. His face reflected the hues of the colored light below him. His mouth was pinched into a fine line. It was plain he was frustrated

"No news?"

Hiassen turned. "No, Ma'am. I'm sorry. We've made a full sweep and are starting on another, but there's no sign of the submarine, or anything for that matter."

"Teyla and Ford didn't appear in our gateroom of their own free will. There was no way to activate the Stargate from the submarine." She paused. "Was there?"

"Doctor, at this point I'd say anything was possible." Hiassen turned in his chair. "Something could have happened, it could have been a failsafe device of some sort. Automatically beams you off the sub in the case of an emergency."

"Then what of Sheppard and McKay?"

"Maybe they couldn't get where they were supposed to be in order to transport. Maybe. . ." he coughed and turned back in his chair. Weir was cutting daggers at him with her eyes. "This is pure speculation, of course. . ."

"Yes it is!" she snapped. "Find my men, and don't stop until you do!"

There was a dangerous undertone to her demand. "Yes Ma'am."

Elizabeth nodded and stared at the ring below her. She cursed silently to herself. "I'm going back to the infirmary. Please keep me informed." She accepted Hiassen's nod of acquiescence and hurried off, her head down, her palm pressed to her brow. She stopped only once, when she was outside the control room, and took a few calming breaths. Instead of the infirmary she retreated to her own room, where she allowed herself a rare, and mild, bracer of drink, then walked over to stand on the balcony. The sea yawned at her, looking as casual and relaxed as a sleeping baby, rocking to and fro in a cradle. The blues and green mixed like a smeared watercolor, and the immense sky reached down to blend with it. Weir would have given her right leg to see a field of flowers instead.

>

"How long has it been?" Sheppard was sitting with his head back against the wall.

"Ten hours." McKay was sitting as Sheppard, only his eyes were closed.

Sheppard said nothing.

One thing they had noticed about this particular station was that it hummed. It was more a subtle feeling than physical sensation, the likes of which were starting to characterize the unusual station. Everything was very inner-sensory for being such an empty, boring place. Maybe it was because of the isolation, or the open spaces, or the dim lighting that played with one's mind, that made the senses overly aware of what was going on. It was more of an acute discovery that crept upon them, not spoken in realization, but realized just the same. And it was comforting. There was almost a vibration in the floor. Almost. Maybe it was their imagination, for it fit the hum. Either way, it was relaxing enough to where they were able to sit with droopy eyes while contemplating their next move. It lulled them under, and there was no use resisting it. Both were exhausted. Both were stressed. Both were frightened. Both needed to shut down, if just for a moment.

Oddly enough, it was John who drifted off first. Rodney fought to keep his eyes open by running a sarcastic dialogue through his mind, wonderfully snarly ones about how the military man couldn't stay awake to keep guard, therefore the unarmed scientist had to. So much for training. He was almost asleep himself when gentle snores popped his lids open. He looked at John, incredulous. Then, ever so slowly, he turned his head, allowing his gaze to shift naturally while preparing his heart for the shock he knew was coming.

She was beautiful, fiery, gentle. Her posture suggested nobility, or extreme internal delight in who she was. Her small shoulders were pulled back, her chest forward, her hands relaxed at her sides. Her hair was as red as his sister's. Her eyes were huge and obsidian. Her skin was pale, her legs long, her dress crisply white and clingy. And the one word kept echoing as the scene was described in his mind. . .her. . .her. . .her. . .it's her.

He rose slowly, one hand braced on the wall behind him. He kept it there, needing to feel something solid while he looked at this amazing apparition. She stared back, her peach lips curling into a subtle smile. She didn't seem surprised to see him in the least. He wasn't sure what to think about that. He briefly considered waking Sheppard, but then she spoke, and all rationality fled.

"You are here." Her voice, deep and throaty for such a petite figure, was solid and real.

Rodney licked his lips, his words caught somewhere in the threads of his vocal chords. He could feel them there like a small knot, but they refused to come out.

She took a step toward him, then another. Her dress moved loosely for something that seemed so stiff, and Rodney realized it wasn't stiff at all, but so white that it looked solid. Her feet may as well have been bare, the sandals she wore were little more than soles and two threads. They cris-crossed over delicate ankles. Her toes were long, and Rodney imagined them curling in pleasure. He consciously gave his head a shake and forced himself to speak. "We – uh. . .where are we?"

"You do not know?"

He exhaled in irritation. "Why is it when I land in an alien environment and ask a simple question, I get a lyrical answer that isn't an answer at all? If I knew, I wouldn't be asking." Good man, he complimented himself. Keep your guard.

She smiled. "What are you called?"

"Dr. Rodney McKay." His face held no expression. He hadn't meant to answer, he meant to ask hers first in a delightfully arrogant way, as though he was too good for the likes of her. But he spoke without thinking, like instinct.

"I am Datanunana Michashani."

Well, she seemed friendly enough. "I guess calling you Dot would be out of the question."

She frowned slightly. "I am called Datanunana Michashani. Why would you call me Dot?"

"I – you see sometimes we – never mind. Where are we?"

Datanunana gestured widely. "You are in the capital city. You are home."

"What? No, this- this isn't home. This isn't my home, you've got that all. . .is this your home? You live here?" He had walked from the wall, meeting her as she crossed the room. He wasn't even aware he was doing it. He just suddenly found himself staring at her face, slightly lower than his, seeing the curve of her lips, feeling the strange heat her body was emanating. It was the kind of heat he felt deep in his gut while making love, just before release. She was covered with it.

"I have always lived here," she said softly, and her lips brushed his. It was like liquid flame. Rodney groaned despite himself, and the sound jerked him to his senses. He backed away.

"Look, what are you? Because that thing you just did, that's not normal." He glanced back at John, wanting to wake him, but again was distracted by her presence.

She was amused. "That was a greeting. Do you not greet people as such?"

"God no! I mean, no, I don't, I mean there are cultures that do, but not mine." He cleared his throat, trying desperately to rid himself of the vision of kissing his coworkers every time he saw them. "Besides, that didn't answer the question."

The room dimmed, and Datanunana glanced around lightly. "I will return. You must wait for me, you can not leave the city just yet."

"We – you know how to leave the city? Wait, what are you. . .hey!" She shimmered and faded. Rodney ran to the spot where she had stood, waving his arms about like he could catch mist on a spring breeze. "You can't just leave! Get us out of here!"

"Rodney?" John was awake. He rubbed his eyes and watched in bleary concern as his teammate circled the room with out-flung arms, talking to no one. That's it, he thought to himself, McKay's cracked. He stood and limped to the center of the room, calling Rodney's name then catching him by the arms. And he didn't like what he saw.

Rodney's eyes were wild and unfocused. John had seen that look before, in the eyes of his best friend in college when he was hitting the needles heavily. There was no way in hell Rodney would be shooting up. Was there? "McKay. McKAY! Look at me." He grabbed Rodney's shoulders and forced the man still. "What the hell's going on?"

"She was here! She was just here, she was right. . ." he gestured to the floor with out turned hands, "here! She was talking to me, oh god, she smelled so good, its been so long since I smelled anything that good. . ."

John's brows furrowed and he tightened his grip. There was no doubt. Rodney had cracked. His red-rimmed eyes scanned the room furiously. "She said she would help," the scientist said through his teeth, "and she left." His eyes turned to John, and he pushed him away. "You woke up. You asshole! She would have stayed if you hadn't woke up!"

"Rodney, get a grip! You're acting crazy!"

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" His eyes were violent, and in Rodney, that was a scary vision. "We're stuck in Sleeping Beauty's castle at the bottom of a hole in the sea with no foreseeable way out! Crazy? Crazy is the least of our worries!"

John swore and grabbed Rodney as he slid down to his knees, his grip firm on the man's shoulders. Rodney seemed to be dissolving into his own world, no longer aware of John's hands, or of his own surroundings. He threaded his fingers together and talked nonsense, his head jerking around to search for a person that wasn't there. And he lay on his side, and his eyes closed, no matter how hard John tried to keep him awake. And he slept.


	6. Chapter 6

Rodney did wake peacefully nearly an hour later, on his own, to sounds of cursing and humming. It was an odd combination, but when he discovered the noises came from John, he dismissed it as ordinary. The man would probably hum on his deathbed.

Rodney sat up and moaned, pressing the heel of his hand to the bridge of his nose. What the hell? He felt like he'd been involved in one of those damn all night frat parties that his college roommate had insisted on dragging him to. The one who insisted he "get a life". His conclusion was, if those parties were indicative of what life was really like, he was bailing. Those odd days were brought back in stark memories prompted by the intense pounding in his head. He saw John sitting at the console, studying the displays with relaxed features. At least someone was having fun.

John hardly looked up when Rodney walked to stand behind him. "Nice nap?" he asked.

"Funny. I'm glad to see you're so overwhelmed with concern for my welfare."

"You weren't choking on your slobber, so I let you sleep." He hid a grin as Rodney self-consciously wiped at his mouth. "Actually, I tried to wake you. But I've tried that lots of times, and it's like stopping a train by looking at it. The end result is about the same."

Rodney ignored this. "What is this, what are you doing?" He couldn't make sense of the colors that now showed on the flat screen.

"Well," John leaned back and crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving the console, "far as I can tell, you put either the blue on the black, or the black on the blue, but not like colors together. Now, you can stack either on the white, provided the symbols match. The order is a bit risky, but I'm getting the hang of it."

Rodney stared. His mouth fell open. "You've been playing solitaire?"

John rubbed his chin. "Yeah. Yeah, it is a bit like solitaire, been thinking this was familiar."

"Solitaire?" Rodney yelled. "I was knocked unconscious by an alien entity, who could have done god knows what to my brain, and all you can do is sit and play solitaire?"

"Now, that's not true!" John gestured to a secondary display. "They have backgammon too."

"Oh, that's just. . ."

"I'm kidding, Rodney!" John spun in his chair to face the disgruntled man. Truth was, he was very relieved to see him up and alert, after having spent half his time trying to rouse him. No way in hell he'd admit that, no way he would confess to sitting on that metallic floor, afraid that no only was he trapped in an alien city, but that he was trapped there alone. Once it was apparent that Rodney was sleeping comfortably, he had spent the rest of the hour in serious reconnaissance, at least before he realized the schematic he had pulled up was actually a game of some kind.

"This thing'll be spitting out chess next, I suppose," Rodney muttered, wiping at his sleeve.

John faced the display. "In that case, you play. You always beat the crap outta me, maybe you stand a chance against the supercomputer."

"I do, don't I? Yes, well. . .is there really chess in there?" Rodney peered over John's shoulder.

"Now Rodney, you've had your nap, I've had my playtime, I think we should get back to work, huh?" He tapped the screen and pulled up a different schematic. "Check this out. I found readings on the energy output of this place." He turned aside, allowing Rodney a full view of the screen.

Rodney moved in, then frowned and pressed his hands to the console, leaning over the screen. John copied McKay's frown and tilted back out of the way, seeing the lights play along the puzzlement on the scientist's face. "This can't be right," Rodney muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because according to these readings, this whole place normally operates at less than three percent of the current energy output of Atlantis."

"And?"

"Less than three percent! Not forty, not thirty, not even ten! Three percent!"

"Very low, I get it. And?"

"And. . . look at the readings here." Rodney pointed. "Look at the quality of the energy that is being generated to keep this place lit and functional. Atlantis would never be able to match that, even with reserves in place."

"Meaning too much, or too little?"

"Meaning too damned efficient! This place has five to six times the power that Atlantis has, and that's just according to these reserves. Now, maybe that's because this place isn't fully functional, but even so, this is an energy source that we could definitely use. The output, at least according to this, far exceeds the amount of energy burned."

"So what happens if we turn on all the lights?"

Rodney turned to John. "Part of me is scared to ask, but the rest of me says the hell with it. You've got more systems going. Give it a try."

"O-kay." John exhaled sharply and hovered his hands over the controls. He closed his eyes and allowed his instinct to guide him. He placed his hands on the console.

And everything sprung to life.

John jumped and stood quickly. Rodney was backing away, briefly overwhelmed by the lights that, oddly enough, did not blind him despite their apparent intensity. The walls glowed, but not unpleasantly. The console gleamed. The controls within the console were dimmed alongside the ethereal light. Only the floor remained dark, but the vibration was more obvious now, a pleasant massage.

"Wow." The muttered word came from McKay. He had braved the trek back to the console, now convinced that it wasn't going to erupt in sparks after years of stagnation. "Major, look at this." He pointed. "The readings, they've hardly changed a bit."

Sheppard frowned again. "Maybe the readings are false."

"I don't think so. I think this is a new type of energy source." He was concentrating now, his eyebrows drawn over an intense expression. "There is no evidence of an energy spike. Hardly any fluctuation to speak of."

Even Sheppard was impressed. "That's pretty incredible."

"It isn't incredible, it's impossible! There is no way what is currently happening should be able to happen."

"So maybe it was an energy transfer. Maybe one part of the station shut down and the energy was rerouted here."

"Again, I don't think so. What area would shut down? Why? What good would that do?" Rodney shook his head and tapped the edge of the console. "No, we need this. We need this in Atlantis. I wonder why their walls glow, and ours don't?"

"Better interior designer?"

"No, I. . ." he smiled and gave a chuckle, "funny, though. . . I think the answer to this power source is within the walls. I think that's where they store the energy they use."

"So we find a sledge hammer."

"No, we don't find a sledge hammer!" Rodney snapped in a classic bipolar manner. "Think! What if this energy is a liquid? What if it's a poisonous gas? You really want to just bash down a wall and release god knows what?"

"And your idea would be, what exactly?"

Rodney pursed his lips and admitted defeat. "I don't know. For now, see what this has to say about things." He waved his hand toward the console.

"Fine. And in the meantime, I'm going to look for a snack machine down the hall."

"Uh-huh. You do that. Maybe they'll have ding-dongs." Rodney was already engrossed in his work.

Sheppard sighed and shook his head, and, feeling bolder now that he could clearly see, walked out. The corridor was brightly lit as well, but again it was a gentler glow, much more comforting than it should have been, given the amount of illumination. Sheppard spun slowly as he walked, looking out of the various windows into the dark waters that surrounded the city.

Unlike Atlantis when they had first arrived, he couldn't look up and see light filtering in from the surface. They were too far down, too deep, and he wondered again about the structural integrity of the city, which was able to withstand the force of water pressure that so quickly destroyed his sub; a sub supposedly constructed by these same people.

He continued to walk, his nerves alert. He wished he had a weapon, his arms ached to assume a defensive position. Instead he held them out from his body, his fingers itching to touch the walls, yet not doing so. There was a door ahead, and it slid open as he approached. He stuck his head inside, looked back down the corridor towards the room where he had left Rodney, and entered. The door slid shut behind him.

What the supercomputer of this psuedo-Atlantis had to tell Rodney about the make-up of the lit walls was, in a word, zilch. Rodney slammed his hand on the console in anger, then quickly rubbed his fingers along the edge apologetically. The last thing he needed was for this station to get angry at him. So it decided to withhold a bit of mystery. He couldn't blame it, it wasn't like he opened his heart to every warm body that passed his way. Hell, he hardly trusted his friends, unless a life was on the line. He sat back in his chair, his arms folded, and mused aloud. "Funny that. I can trust these people with my life, but not with my laundry." A quick glance darted towards the hall behind him, incase Sheppard was there, listening with his patented smirk and a ready quip. Not like he didn't talk to himself all the time anyway, he was as known for that as he was for his bad temper

Rodney often said he was his own best friend, because he was the only one who listened to himself. He was his own best company. But dammit all if a certain air force pilot wasn't trying to test that proclamation. Speaking of which, where was Sheppard?

Rodney swiveled in his chair and stood, then froze. He knew. He _knew_. He could feel her gaze pinned in a tingle between his shoulder blades, he knew that she wanted him to turn. But he refused. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. But. . .what if she wasn't there, and this was just a chill in the air? He lifted his chin defiantly, and faced her. "And just what do you want?"

Datanunana smiled. "Is that how you greet one who is here to help?"

Rodney snorted. "I'm not up for your usual greeting. Besides, you could've helped. Instead you ran off, and now Major Sheppard thinks I belong in a psych ward." He returned to his seat, muttering, "Probably thought that anyway, really." He noticed that he was now talking to her as if he had always known her. He wasn't surprised she was there. Datanunana stepped forward, her small feet just showing underneath her robes. She leaned over Rodney, who stopped what he was doing with a show of annoyance. "Yes? What can I do for you?" There was no response. He allowed himself to look up, and was nearly swallowed by the emptiness in her eyes, an emptiness that needed to be filled.

"I wish to talk, nothing more." She looked down at him with all the alluring nature of seduction, yet he was suddenly certain that wasn't her plan. There was an earnest expression on her face, and she had yet to touch him. She blinked, and it occurred to him that maybe he misjudged her nature.

"Oh. Oh, well then. . ." he swiveled the chair to face her, "what about?"

Again she smiled, and Rodney had to admit it was the most sensual thing he had ever seen. "I need you."

This caused him to stop breathing before clearing his throat, and leaning back. "Wh-why?" His voice cracked.

"Your friend has the gene. I sensed it when you arrived. He is the one."

"The one?" Rodney pushed the chair away from the console with his feet so he could stand, and took a few steps away in order to regain control over himself. He faced the woman. "Look, I wish you would stop talking in these coded messages, in these obscure themes that you assume we should either automatically understand, or become intimidated by. I neither understand, nor am I intimidated, I'm just pissed off! What do you mean he's the one?"

Datanunana looked amused. "I will explain. But please retake your seat."

Rodney crossed his arms. "No thank you, I believe I'll stand right here. Beside the door. You know, just in case."

"You don't trust me."

"Give me a reason to."

She hesitated, then walked along the edges of the console, running her finger over the corners. "Your companion has the gene that is needed to awaken those who sleep. This city has been asleep for so long. Your arrival sparked a certain awareness. I woke, so that I might contact you and ask that you awaken the others."

Rodney's arms slowly fell to his side. "What others? Who's asleep? You mean – you mean you have those pod things here? This a Wraith hive. . .oh god, I've got to find the Major. . .no wonder we can't find Lt. Ford or Teyla! What have you done with them, god, they're probably spun into cotton candy by now. . ."

"No, no, there are no Wraith here!" Datanunana hurried from the console to stand before Rodney. "No! We abhor the Wraith, we hide ourselves deep in the water so that they will not find us. No one ever ventures this deep."

"Then you know where Ford and Teyla are?"

"They were in the ship with you?"

"Yes! You know about that?"

"They were sent away. They are not in the city."

"Sent away? Sent away where?"

"From whence they came. I assume, from the surface."

"Then they're safe."

"They are. I had no need of them. You must trust that I did this for the good of the people. Your friends are unharmed."

Rodney cast a wary, sidelong glance at her. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You must trust me. Those who sleep, built this city. During the war, we hid ourselves. Everything was shut down for protection, and now one has come who can wake us again." Her eyes glowed with excitement.

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Wait. . .we didn't sink." He shook an accusatory finger. "You brought us here. You. . .wait, okay, give me a second, I have to think." He turned away, fingers to the bridge of his nose as he concentrated. "This abyss thing, you hid your city in it. But why? This place is apparently more powerful than Atlantis could ever hope to be, I mean the power you use here is phenomenal, you should have been able to defend yourself, unless something catastrophic happened and left you stuck here. . ." his hand fell and he regarded the lady before him. "That hull breech wasn't an accident. You were pulling us in, that's why we descended so fast, and so sharply." This was all starting to sound eerily familiar, and Rodney's thoughts traveled to Dr. Weir, and her situation with the 'older model' as he dubbed it in his mind. The 'older model' had been left behind by the Atlanteans, and programmed to awaken with the arrival of her future self. Never mind it took ten thousand years. It was an incident that still boggled his physicist mind, even though in school he had studied every theory that had been recently proven by the existence and travel of the 'older model'. Didn't mean it was easy to accept, and not twice in as many weeks. "Those that built the city. . ." his eyes widened, and he pointed his index finger at her as another memory surfaced, one of Chaya, and her seductive ways, "wait, you're an Ancient, aren't you?" He looked at her in astonishment. "All these people, these sleepers, are they Ancients too?" Had he found something even more astonishing than Atlantis itself?

She frowned slightly. Her head tilted, spilling fiery hair over one eye. "I do not know this term."

"Doesn't matter. But, if the others are still asleep, how did you wake up?"

Datanunana frowned again. "I told you, the city woke me. It sensed your arrival, it sensed the gene. I speak for the city."

"Like Atlantis protecting itself from contagions and other outside influences," Rodney thought aloud. "This city has a similar awareness, it knew there was a chance to. . .wake. . ." He was looking closely at her. She remained motionless, allowing his scrutiny. "I know. You're an avatar," he said finally. "You're not even real."

"I am a part of one who is sleeping. I am the voice of the city."

Rodney nodded. "That's incredible. I've heard of avatars, but this. . ."

"You will help wake the others?"

"Wait, I thought you said Major Sheppard had the appropriate gene?"

"And you must convince him."

Rodney held up a hand. "Yeah, okay, I see. . .so how many are we talking here?"

She shook her head, her fiery curls bouncing slightly. "I do not know. There is no way to tell who survived the sleep until all are called upon."

"Give me an estimate. Twenty? Fifty? Five hundred?"

"First tell me this." She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "Is Atlantis safe?"

"Atlantis?" Rodney was startled by the question. "For the moment, yes. Yes, it is."

"We hold enough to populate your entire city threefold."

"Whoa! Okay, wait," Rodney laughed, then turned serious. "Threefold? Really?"

"Yes."

"All asleep."

"Yes."

His eyes darted around the room as if he expected corpses to emerge from the walls. "Threefold. But where? This place can't be any larger than Atlantis, where are they?"

"I cannot show you, not unless I have your complete trust, and a promise."

"And if Major Sheppard has the specific gene, why talk to me? Why are you hiding from Major Sheppard?" Why was he chosen and not me when I also have the gene, was his real question.

Datanunana lowered her eyes. "There is a reason, but I can not say at this time." Her grin turned impish. "Your friend is stuck in a compartment. You should go to him."

"What? How do you. . .what reason?"

"Your friend. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, he won't get into any trouble as long as he's in there. What reason?"

She smiled. "See to your friend. I will find you. And talk to him, please. There is a crystal he must find, deep in the city, and this crystal will awaken us all. Please. . ."

"Wait, what about this power source?" Rodney gestured to the walls. "I wanted to ask you. . ."

"And you will, later. Now please, see to your friend."

Rodney tucked his hands behind his back. "Only if you come with me. Besides, I don't know where to look."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Very well."

Rodney nodded and walked out of the room with the mysterious woman at his heels. She did not stop, but launched straight down the corridor and to a door that slid open before her. The room was empty, and to the side was an odd panel. Rodney looked at her, and tapped on it. "Hello?"

"McKay? That you?" The voice was muffled. "Get me outta here!"

Rodney couldn't help but smirk. "I guess they keep their snacks in the closet?"

"Rodney. . ." There was a faint pounding.

"Or was there another private matter you needed to attend to?"

"Get me out, now!"

"What about this gene?" Rodney turned to Datanunana. "He can't get himself out of a closet, and yet you expect him to wake the entire city?"

"McKay, who the hell are you talking to?"

"Oh, no one, just a beautiful young lady. . ."

"So help me god. . ."

"Oh, hold your nuts, man." Rodney ran his fingers along the slight fissure where the panel joined the wall. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, then gestured. "Would you mind. . ." She smiled in response. Rodney frowned as the door slid open. "Wouldn't it have been easier if you'd just done that earlier," he turned, ". . .oh no."

Sheppard stepped out, looking none to happy. "Thanks," he muttered.

But Rodney was beyond paying attention. "Wait, nononono, get back here! Hey! Son of a. . ."

Sheppard's brows raised. "Talking to air again?"

He spun. "It wasn't me, I didn't get you out! She was here, dammit!"

"Sure she was." Sheppard walked on.

"Major, I'm telling you, there is someone here. An avatar for the city. She needs you to activate a crystal so the original city builders of this city can wake up, or something like that."

John cocked his head as he turned. "What?"

"I swear, I am not lying and I'm not crazy! At least I don't think. She's real, I mean, as real as an avatar gets, though I've heard they are real enough. . .that's not the point." He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "The point is, there are others here that are waiting for the right person to come and wake them, and apparently that person, for whatever universally screwed up reason, is you."

John stared. "There are people here, asleep, and I have to wake them."

"I think they're all Ancients. The woman, Datana. . .Danana. . ." he sighed in frustration, "Dot said they were the builders of the city, and she asked about the safety of Atlantis. She assured me this isn't a pod ship, there are no Wraith. She says they hid the city this deep to escape the Wraith."

"Escape the Wraith when?"

"Well, I assume the same time Atlantis went underwater! How would I know?"

"So, you're saying there are Ancients here, asleep, and we have to wake them so they can return to the city."

Rodney folded his arms in annoyance. "I do believe that was my meaning, without actually quoting verbatim what I just said." John still looked skeptical. "Major, if we wake them, think of the things we can learn! We can find out all about this power source they have, hell, they can probably sneeze and light the whole of Atlantis!"

"They're not gods, McKay."

"No, but this is their galaxy, not ours. We need them."

John thought about it. "Look, I'm not saying yes. I wanna see this, what'd you call her?"

"Dot."

He winced. "Her name's really Dot?" he asked in disbelief.

Rodney gave a long-suffering sigh. "No, her name is not Dot, but it's too insanely long to try and remember. I'm not Dr. Jackson, it takes a lot for me to bother remembering a normal name, let alone one this complex."

"Dr. Jackson?"

"Yeah, the guy that is ultimately responsible for us being in the Pegasus galaxy. Remember him?"

"Oh yeah. Didn't talk much."

"We were kind of busy, Major." Rodney looked over his shoulder at the closet. "Why the hell did you go in there, anyway?"

"Looked a lot bigger on the inside than it was. Thought I saw something in there. The door slid shut behind me."

"Well, I don't suppose you could have suffocated."

"Let's put you in there and find out, shall we?"

"I think not." Rodney started to the door leading to the corridor. "Look, we need to find a working schematic, not games, that shows us the precise layout of the station, and we need to figure out exactly what this power source is." He ran his fingertips along the glowing walls. "You know, just in case we can't wake the Ancients."

"Don't suppose 'Dot' will just lead us to them."

"No, she keeps disappearing. I think you scare her." Rodney was studying the walls closely.

"Me? Women love me! I'm full of charm. What are you doing?" He closed the space between them and leaned over McKay's shoulder.

Rodney had crouched to the floor, his eyes on the lower wall after following a trail straight down. He stood quickly, knocking John in the chin, took a step to the right, and repeated the procedure. "I'm not certain," he said, "but these lights, just this particular panel. . ." he faced John excitedly, "there's something here."

"Here as in. . .in the lights?"

"Here as in behind the panel. The lights are covering it. This isn't part of the wall." Rodney had both his hands running along the surface. "Help me! You're the one with the goods, use them."

"Seems your implanted gene isn't of much use here."

"That's disturbingly true," Rodney muttered, "maybe yours is a variation or something. . .oh, I see." He looked up and shouted, "It's because mine's not real, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Just help me!"

Sheppard placed his hands on the wall, and closed his eyes. The light brightened, then dimmed, and the panel disintegrated beneath his touch. Both men jumped back, then studied the new golden wall before them. John reached out to touch the strange symbols, but Rodney slapped his hand away. "Don't."

"What is it?"

"It's. . .Ancient. But I can't really read it, this is different from. . ." he ignored his own advice and ran a finger over the raised carving.

"McKay! No touching!"

"Right." He pocketed his hands, squinting at the language that ran from ceiling to floor.

"I thought you could read Ancient?"

"I can interpret," Rodney said patiently, "with help from my database and the notes that Dr. Jackson gave me. None of which I have here. So no, I can't read this." He turned a rather wistful gaze towards the wall. "Never thought I'd say this, but I really, really wish he were here."

Sheppard studied the wall before him. Nothing. "Didn't you like the man?"

"Well enough. Not like we hung out. Different professional interests." He waved a hand at the symbols. "He schooled me in all things Ancient before we left, because he knew I would be in charge of conducting most of the research on Atlantis. Gave me some lessons in the language, in so far as he was able. That man knows a lot, but he carried this impression that he knows more, and he isn't telling." Rodney gave a light shrug. "Irritating, really."

"Hm," John muttered helpfully. "Look, if you can't read this, and it isn't doing anything, then it isn't helpful. Let's go see what else we can find."

"You go on. I want to examine this for a few more minutes."

"And you'll find me. . .how?"

"Look, just tell me before you go too far. Okay? And no more getting stuck in closets."

"Thanks for the advice." John gave him a weary sideways glance and headed on.


	7. Chapter 7

"Dr. Weir!" Beckett's Scottish brogue lashed in Elizabeth's ear, making her jump. Her hand flew to her earpiece, wondering why his voice seemed so loud. Or had she been so lost in her own thoughts that it merely seemed loud? "Yes, doctor?"

"I thought you should know, my patients are awake and asking for you."

"On my way!" Elizabeth shoved aside the papers that contained military procedure for a memorial service. There was no way in hell she accepted the fact that John and Rodney were dead, but she wanted to look over the papers, just in case something had happened, which it hadn't, but this particular hour was the only chance she would have to sit and review. Not to mention she already had a few people ask if there would be a service of any kind.

It hadn't even been twenty four hours since the sub went down, but everyone seemed to know what the chances were. The submarine had been located by radar, demolished. There was no way John and Rodney could survive that. It became increasingly apparent that Teyla and Aiden had managed to find a way to transport off, and that John and Rodney simply weren't in time. . .or dead already. . .and maybe the other two simply didn't have time to carry their bodies through the transport.

Maybe they were trapped, and drowned. A small part of her hoped that they were transported elsewhere, it was possible, wasn't it? But where? It was the one thought that, while she read over the military standards for a memorial service, prevented her from ingesting it, causing her to read the same paragraph over and over again. She was all too glad for the distraction, one that hopefully would provide some answers.

The infirmary was silent, with most of the patients sleeping through the late hour. The lights seemed dimmer than she remembered. Nurses padded around softly, muttering to each other and consulting their charts, or computer screens, or the giant Ancient terminal that had been discovered and situated in the corner, acting as a database for every bit of information the medical team could tap into, with plenty of room to spare. It was an at-the-touch retrieval system. Much easier to access than the laptops that dotted the sterile room like flat silver mushrooms.

They were in the far corner of the room. While most of the privacy curtains had been drawn, theirs remained open, probably so Elizabeth would be able to spot them upon entering. Teyla was sitting up, listening to Aiden intently as he propped on an elbow, his back to Weir. Elizabeth approached quietly, unable to keep her smile to herself. Teyla noticed, and returned her own. Aiden looked over his shoulder, pushing himself to a sitting position. "Hey, Dr. Weir!"

"Lt. Ford, Teyla. I'm glad to see you're awake, how are you feeling?"

"A bit fatigued, but well, thank you," Teyla assured her softly. She looked at Aiden, and an unspoken message passed between them. "We were told that Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay did not return with us."

Elizabeth studied the floor and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The posture revealed how ill at ease she was. Teyla frowned, not liking what she saw. Her eyes sought Ford's and he cleared his throat and spoke. "Doctor Beckett says we were found in the gateroom. He tells us we came out of nowhere."

"Yes, there was some sort of transportation. . . we detected a massive energy reading just before you arrived." She was looking right at him now, but her arms were still crossed. "Did you activate such a device on board the submarine?"

"No Ma'am," Ford looked confused. "We – there was a breach in the hull, and all this water came rushing in. I thought we were dead. I sure didn't think we'd end up here."

"You say we were transported?" Teyla asked.

Elizabeth let her arms fall to her side. "Yes, there was the energy reading then a bright flash of light. Someone yelled out, and the two of you were found in front of the gate on the floor. You mean you don't remember anything about it?"

"I think I remember a light," Aiden said, "but I thought it was that whole 'going down the tunnel' thing. I don't remember coming here."

"Nor do I, although I too remember seeing a light." Teyla considered this. "Is it possible we were transported by somebody else?"

"Who?"

"The city!" Ford stiffened. "By whoever was in the city!"

Elizabeth's eyes drew tight. "Wait, what city?"

"We found another city, underneath the water. We were headed right toward it, about to crash into it, when we were transported."

"So. . .you're saying there are inhabitants down there, who saved you to protect their city?" Elizabeth fell into the chair at Aiden's bedside. The shock of hearing about another underwater city had taken the strength from her. Why was she so tired these days?

Ford's eyes were wide as a possible solution formed in his young mind. "We never had a chance to survey for life signs, at the time we were trying to figure out how to divert the sub so we wouldn't crash. But I remember one thing."

"Yes?"

"It - it looked an awful lot like Atlantis, to me."

"It struck me the same, Lieutenant," Teyla said in surprise.

Elizabeth shook her head and leaned forward. "Okay, so you're saying that not only is there another city down there, but it is another Atlantis?"

"It's possible, Ma'am. And there's one more thing," he glanced down as he gathered his thoughts, "if that is a city, and we were transported away from it, is it possible that Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay were transported into it?"

Elizabeth blinked slowly at the hope he had given her. "You think they are in the city. Why?"

"I don't know, Ma'am. But they aren't here, and it wouldn't make sense to save us and not them."

Elizabeth slowly rose. "Do you think you can locate this city on a chart?"

Ford's eyebrows raised as he considered. "I can try." He regarded her evenly. "But we don't have another sub to go after them in."

"Surely the Atlanteans had more than one. We just have to find it."

"Except that the one we were in busted, what makes you think the other one will be safe?"

Weir's expression was stern. "We're looking, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"In the meantime, I want the two of you to rest. Enjoy yourselves. Because come morning there will be plenty of work to do."

Teyla nodded. "I will be happy to assist you in any way."

"And I'm grateful for the help." She nodded in return, and patted Aiden's shoulder. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You just gave me the hope I desperately needed."

Ford looked a bit startled. "You're welcome."

Weir smiled and all but ran from the infirmary.


	8. Chapter 8

The writing wasn't telling him a damn thing about the power source that operated the station.

Of course.

McKay winced as he pried at the panel. To hell with the ancient scroll. That was all well and good for someone who's ass was glued to a chair while their eyes were stuck to history books, but did little for someone in dire need of rescue, and seeing as how Major Sheppard was useless, he had to rely on his own devices, as usual. Rodney McKay, godhead.

His fingers slipped as he tried to pull the panel open. It took several more attempts, and a good whack on the corner before he was able to spot a thin cable within the wall. His eyes widened in excitement. "Hello! Chalk one up for the McKayster." He grinned and carefully touched the cable, half expecting an electrical shock. He even flinched. There was no shock. Light brows drew over curious eyes, and he reached into his vest pocket for a tiny penknife and a pair of rubber gloves.

After pulling on the gloves, he inserted the blade behind the panel, and with careful precision, slit the cable open. He winced as it snapped apart, and froze, waiting for something absolutely traumatic to happen. Nothing did, but the cable dimmed a little. He noticed a droplet on his finger and backed away, angling the digit in the light, noting the greenish luminescence, like those neon tubes he liked to buy around Halloween.

The fluid was tacky, stringing thinly between his fingertips. He shook his hand and leaned in again, sampling more, noticing how it thickly ran from the line, almost like blood. In fact, it was starting to clot slightly. Interesting. . .he pulled at the panel once more in order to study the intricate network of what looked like thin hoses, all housing the liquid. A frown creased his forehead, and he slowly backed away. "Wait." He spoke to the air, because a theory suddenly formed in his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked it. But he needed to hear a sound other than his rapid breathing. He hurried back to the room down the hall, where John had been staring at the console which had gone black.

John turned to see Rodney snapping off his gloves and throwing them aside. "We need this up and running, now."

"You're the mastermind." John stepped away and graciously gestured to the floor. Rodney crawled underneath the console with no argument, which clued John in. "You find something?"

"Maybe. Let me know when this starts up, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll look for the little dancing men on the screen." John sat in the chair and folded his arms, to McKay's chagrin.

"Don't get too comfortable," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm not the one trying to make house in an unknown station with an imaginary girl."

"I'm telling you," McKay grunted and pulled at a chunk of wire, "she's real." He wriggled and looked up at Sheppard from underneath the console. "Try it now."

Sheppard stood directly above him, and tapped the glowing panels. "Nothing. Like your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend"

"Because she's all in your head."

"Dammit, if I were to make up a girl, and I'm not saying I ever have, do you honestly think I'd do it now?"

"Sure." John's finger was on his lips as he concentrated; he talked around it. "Some kind of defense mechanism, to help protect you against the dark arts."

"Help. . .what?"

"I mean, I think this place is getting to you, and you're finding comfort where you can."

"Oh, that's. . .I'm not even going to bother wasting my valuable energy and mental capacity on such an idiotic observation." He was half hidden underneath the console again, plucking at wires. He had discovered that there was little use trying to convince Major Sheppard of anything; like McKay, he took things at face value, and his belief system had a tendency to run on his terms only. He wasn't ready to give in to a fact until he saw it with his own eyes, with merits proven. In that way he was very much like Rodney. And despite what Rodney said, John wasn't ready to dismiss the fact that Ford and Teyla were somewhere on the station, any more than he was ready to accept the fact that there was another being around. So, unable to pursue the conversation further without proof, McKay did the next best thing. "What is that smell. . .did you wear clean socks?"

John had pushed the chair aside and was standing beside him. "I think so, what day is today?"

"What day is. . .oh my god. No wonder it smells like a diarrhetic rhino down here." He dug an elbow into John's boot as he shifted and scooted further underneath the console.

"I'm kidding, McKay. Of course I put on clean socks."

"Then you need to do something about your boots," came a muffled voice. "Do me a favor and take a few steps back, okay?"

"If I do that, I can't see the screen." And John punctuated his remark by instead stepping closer to Rodney, his left boot just touching the man's leg.

"What the. . .oh great, you had to. . .you ass. . .wait a minute – waitwait, okay, try now!"

"Bingo!" John leaned eagerly over the new display as Rodney popped up beside him. "Oh yeah baby, a whole new set of schematics."

"Okay, so, can you make any of this out?" Rodney squinted at the screen, but couldn't determine their location. In fact, the display looked worse than the others they had come across. Nothing but lines and angles that reminded him of the old Tron Atari game on high speed.

"If you're asking if I see a stargate, no. If you're asking if I see a power source. . ." Sheppard pointed to a dot on the screen, "yes."

"Really? Where? How far?" Rodney's mind held on to an image of Tron waiting to be beamed to the next playing level.

"Well, until I figure out where we are, I can't tell you."

"No, no, of course not." Rodney straightened. He exhaled loudly and talked to the room, needing to keep his thoughts going. "You suppose their transportation device would simply show up as a power source of some kind? I mean, the stargate on Atlantis is different from any we've seen, not to mention the mass quantity of energy the Ancients seem to possess. It would stand to reason that they may have a means of transportation other than a gate."

Sheppard slowly turned to face Rodney. "That has to be it. The way the energy is distributed in this place doesn't allow for a power source this huge to run it."

"Right, not like it is drawing from a central source, the city itself is the central source." His eyes locked with John's. "My god. I think we're onto something here."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm – pleased!"

"So do I get a chocolate bar for this one?"

"Forget it, I've only got two left." Rodney leaned in and punched at the lit tabs. "Okay, look. I think we're here, this series of corridors matches the set we just came through."

"You sure?"

Rodney winced at him in annoyance. "Major, rarely do I open my mouth that I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Remains to be seen." John nodded. "Okay, I think I've got a map. Let's go see what this thing is, see if we can click our heels and get back home."

"Lead on, Scarecrow.".

John straightened and popped his back. "Scarecrow? I guess that makes you. . .the cowardly lion?"

"Oh, ha-ha. Think again. . . I'm the wizard."

"Nah, you're the lion. Searching for your courage. . ." He finished stretching, his lips curved in a silly grin.

"I'm sorry, did you just call me a coward?"

"If the tail fits."

"At least I'm not searching for my brains!"

They walked for a while, their voices echoed down the hall, followed by the faint mist of a shadow. Rodney stiffened and turned, then shook his head at Sheppard's inquiring glance. "Ghosts again?" the Major asked.

"I can't believe you would think I'd make that whole story up, about the crystal and all."

"The sleeper must awaken. Sounds like a line from 'Dune'."

"Oh please, that was in reference to latent power, not an entire civilization."

"Depends on the interpretation, doesn't it?"

"Wait, stop, stop. Touch here."

"Again?"

"Major. . ."

Sheppard sighed and tapped the wall, which slid open to reveal a set of Ancient writing on a gold wall, the third set found. "What's with this?"

"It may provide a valuable clue!"

"If you can read it! Which you can't!"

"They're all different, Major. This isn't the same writing on each wall. I bet you have to walk around the city and read them sequentially. Besides, I'm not interested in the writing, but what's behind it." He pried open the panel as he had done earlier. "Don't touch it, just look."

Sheppard looked. "Green goo. Ghost slime, which further proves my case."

"Trust you to bring up that movie."

"What is it with you and your dislike for movies?"

"Okay, I admit, that one was the pick of a very bad lot that year. But you've got me off track, and this is important, so listen. We've already come to the conclusion that this power source is evenly distributed throughout the city, that it doesn't derive from a central source."

"Did we?"

"Well of course we did, where were you? Anyway, there is a good reason for that." He grinned and waited.

"And this reason would be. . ."

"This is a unified chemical reaction. At least I think it is, I would need to do some research on it, but this power is definitely generated within the walls rather than dispersed from a central source. Hence the efficiency."

"You seem to have ascertained a lot in a short amount of time."

"Well, like I said, I need to check up on it, which I can do while you search for the crystal."

"Why don't you just ask your girl about it?"

Damn his smugness. "I will, when she shows again." He eyed the part of the wall that was pried away, studying the writing. "You know, last time I looked at one of these alone, I didn't have much time to ask her, because you started yelling about that console you found. So we've pulled a schematic and we're walking. . .look, just go stand over there for a minute."

"Are you crazy?"

"I don't think she's going to come while you're here, despite your obvious charm and unfortunate Captain Kirk tendencies, now please just go stare at something for a few minutes! Take a nap, jack off, I don't care, just go down the next corridor."

"You're not the lion, you're Spock," John muttered, "you go into heat once every seven years. Must be time to rally the tadpoles." He walked away in an agonizingly slow manner. Rodney sighed and concentrated, then gently placed his hand on the wall. He waited for a buzz, or vibration, or doorbell, but there was nothing. He brought an image of her to his mind, remembering her warmth, the pure heat he felt while in her presence. A smile curved his lips, and he started, then tried again, determined to concentrate on the matter at hand. And he felt her there.

She looked the same, of course, he wasn't sure why he expected differently. Maybe because every time he saw her, she seemed more normal, and he wasn't certain he wanted that. He wanted her to remain mysterious, not clothed in familiarity. "You've found it!" Dantanunana looked pleased.

Rodney resisted the temptation to glance behind him at the wall. "Found what?" The nonchalance couldn't disguise his curiosity.

She gestured gracefully, and his eyes followed her long fingers. "The old writings. Our scripture. This is the way to enlightenment, to become more than you are, and more than you ever thought you could be." She smiled. "Your discovery can mean only one thing. This is your path, Rodney McKay. The words have made themselves evident to you."

Okay, danger, McKay. "Actually, Major Sheppard was the one who unlocked this, so this is probably his path. I'm not much of a path person, what I really wanted to know was. . ."

"No, Rodney McKay, this is your own." Her eyes pinned his, and she slid towards him. "I have watched you. I know this is meant for you."

"And just what, pray tell, are we talking about?" His back stiffened as she drifted closer.

Dantanunana closed in on him. He felt his back press to the wall, against the symbols. "You can become one of us. I would like that."

"What, asleep?"

"No! This is the way to transcendence. To leave your corporeal being behind you, and step into a better existence."

"Leave my. . .wait. . ." he looked at her, really looked at her, "you mean a-ascension? You-you're talking about ascension! My god, you want me to ascend?"

Her eyes glowed with an inner strength that he craved. "You knew the writings were there. You merely needed someone to show you the way. Your instincts are correct, you must follow them."

"My instincts. . .no," he gave a nervous laugh, "no, see, you've got that all wrong. As usual, people just make assumptions without the facts, and I guess you're really no different, even if you are a supposedly intelligent higher being. I was just trying to discover the source of power behind these walls, I was studying the actual walls, not the writing. That-that was an accident. I wasn't searching for anything."

"But people are always searching, and you more so than most. Do not resist, do not be afraid. Open yourself to the teachings of the Eschu, as we have, as others like us have. Only then will you find peace."

"If this is the way to peace, then why are you still asleep and trapped underneath the sea?" Rodney asked sharply.

"I chose to stay behind, to help those that remained."

"So, you're sort of a, what's it called, Bodhisattva."

"I do not know this term."

"I'm not surprised, and I was being sarcastic."

"You are one of those I am to help."

"I don't need help. Besides, to ascend, I have to die, right?"

A flash of humor crossed her face. "That is the way of things."

"Okay, see, I have a problem with that. The whole dying thing."

"But the things you can achieve, Rodney McKay! The possibilities are limitless."

"How do you know? And why do you care?" Rodney's head was against the wall; if he backed away with more force, he would vanish into it entirely. The woman was pressed against him now, and his heart fluttered against her chest. "You don't know what I want to achieve, what my goals are. . .look, stop doing that! It's – distracting."

"Trust me," she smiled. "Read the scripture. It will makes sense to you."

"I can't read this."

"You will. When you are ready."

"Oh, yeah, that's really helpful, thanks." He blinked, and found he was crushed against the wall, with no one there. "Yeah, I'll just pull out my dictionary on the Ancient language and do a bit of interpretation," he yelled out, "since I seem to have so much time down here!" His breath escaped in a sigh, and he sagged. "Unbelievable."

>

Elizabeth studied the graph before her. "Are you certain there is nothing? Nothing at all?"

"With respect, I think you're getting your hopes up, Ma'am." Johnson nodded at the screen. "Don't you think if there was another city on the ocean floor, we would have discovered it long before now? We've already surveyed the waters around us, we did that our first week here. We've detected nothing that would indicate any sort of civilization, and I don't see how that assessment could change over the course of a few months. Cities aren't plants that pop up from underwater seeds."

Elizabeth knew what he was saying was true. She winced and pressed her hand to her head. "Okay, so you're saying that Ford and Teyla just dreamt this up, and imagined this city. Both of them."

"I'm no medical doctor, but I think if they were scared and in the process of drowning, a rock formation would look mighty tempting." He met anger in her eyes. "I'm just saying."

"That still doesn't explain how they got here. They didn't use a transport."

"For all we know, they could have bumped a control somewhere, and been in the right position at the right time." Johnson shook his head and gestured at the screen with his hand. "I'm sorry, but there's just nothing here."

She still looked angry. She pushed herself up from the console slowly, her head shaking slightly, disturbing her dark curls. "No. No, I'm sorry, but I can't accept that. Scan the waters again."

"But Ma'am. . ."

"I gave an order, Mister!" Her voice was uncharacteristically sharp.

Johnson stared in shock, and Elizabeth noticed. She swallowed and gathered herself as he merely replied, "Yes, ma'am," and turned in his chair. She stood still, gathering her breath and her nerves, saying, "I'll be in my office," ignoring the stares as she stormed off to lay her head on her desk, her emotions spent.

There was a light knock on her door about twenty minutes later. Expecting news, Weir called out, "Come in!" and was a little disappointed to see Dr. Carson Beckett. Well, maybe disappointed was too strong a word, she had no problem with the man, but dammit, she wanted Johnson to call out to her excitedly that they had found a city, and that Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay were safely inside. "How's our patients?" she asked, covering her ire.

"No change, which fortunately means no problems. They should be released tomorrow. May I sit down?" He held his hand out to a chair across from her. She nodded.

"If you have no news, why are you here?"

The Scotsman folded his hands on the table and said straight-forth, "I heard about your temper in the gateroom. Mr. Johnson took it upon himself to call me."

"What?" Weir started to push away from the desk, but Carson raised his hand.

"Elizabeth, please. Sit down." He waited until she conceded, and once again folded his hands on the desk. "Look, I know these events are troubling you, they're troubling everyone. But you have to admit, you're becoming more emotionally worked up about this than usual. You have to maintain your professionalism, and you know this."

"Carson, they're my friends!"

"Aye, as they are mine! Trust me, I'd give almost anything to argue with Rodney again! Or lecture Major Sheppard about his eating habits. But we have to face the facts that finding them at this point is a rather corpulent task, and an improbable one! You've sent people on missions, knowing they probably wouldn't return. Several times we thought one or the other of us was done for, and through that you kept your own emotions in check. Now, and I ask this out of professional concern, are you able to make the rational decisions necessary to command this station, or do I have to relieve you of that temporarily until you can prove that your emotions aren't going to run away with you?"

Weir stared, incredulous. "You wouldn't. . .Carson, the situation hardly calls for anything that extreme! I lost my temper, yes, and I'm holding out hope, yes, but I am perfectly capable of running this station! I can't believe you would think otherwise!"

Carson nodded. "Aye, now I've heard more rational determination in that brief statement than I've heard from you all day. That's reassuring." He leaned back. "Now I'm asking you as a friend. Talk to me, Elizabeth. You can't keep this bottled up, you'll explode sure as a shaken bottle'o pop."

She had to smile at the casual tone that had substituted the coarse, professional manner. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm fine."

"If any of your staff were to experience any sort of extreme behavior, you'd send them to Heightmeyer in a heartbeat. You know this."

"My behavior isn't extreme!"

"No, not yet it isn't. But if this keeps on, I can see it becoming a right problem." His blue eyes were sincere, and Elizabeth knew that if the soft-hearted Scotsman continued to look at her in that manner, she'd cave. "If you will not talk to Heightmeyer, will you at least talk to me?"

"I'm – upset, yes. I'd think that normal under the current circumstances."

"Absolutely. But I'm not talking about just that. What about our brief conversation in the infirmary?"

"What about it?"

"The hints you laid wide open before me, that this incident with your older self has disturbed you more that you're letting on."

"That. . .Carson, really, I. . ."

"Need to talk." Carson jerked in his chair in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "For all of heaven's glory, woman, will you please stop trying to be so strong and 'fess up? What happened freaked me out and I wasn't the one doubled! It's obvious you're bothered by it, and it's okay that you're bothered by it, but it isn't okay to play the leader and act like you're fine! Confidentiality clause, Elizabeth. It won't leave this room. Or do you not trust me?"

"Now that was cruel." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in disapproval, but she knew he was right. Carson was easily the most observant person in Atlantis, scarily so. And the most intuitive. And probably the most trustworthy. But to talk would be to admit there was a problem, that she was more disturbed than she liked. She just wasn't ready to go there.

Beckett saw the thought process, and the hesitation behind her eyes. "You know what I keep thinking?" he asked softly. "I think about what you. . .I mean she. . .said, when the city was first discovered, and didn't rise to the surface because there was no failsafe. I was thinking about how Rodney sacrificed himself to make certain you and Major Sheppard got out safely."

"And Dr. Zelenka, he was with us."

"Yes, yes, and Dr. Zelenka." He leaned forward. "Do you remember how Rodney died?"

Of course she remembered. Surely Carson didn't think he was the only one to make the connection. "He drowned." She had to take a moment to swallow. "He drowned as the waters rose in the gateroom."

"Aye. He drowned."

But he didn't drown in the sub, she thought determinedly, because he's still alive. . ."I can't stop thinking about it." Her face was grim. "I can't think of a worse way to die, really, watching the water come in, and seeing it not as a friend but as something evil that is rising up to take your life from you. Watching it come, knowing you won't be able to breathe, that there is no way out, and you can see all that precious life-giving air being swallowed by solid water. And you wait to die, because that's all you can do. And in that last moment, when you catch your last breath, you panic, because you're not ready to die. And you fight, and your body fights, and you think 'god, this can't be happening, I just want to live', but you know there is no way out. And your lungs ache, and you want to scream but you can't, and suddenly your mouth opens to take that breath right as you pass out, if you're lucky." She was staring at the far wall, and inwards at the same time. "It's the moments right before you die that's the worst, because it is so slow, so unnatural, and you are so aware of each process, and of the fact that you are going to die. It's the most terrifying thing in the world. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Carson was silent. He nodded slightly, understanding that Elizabeth spoke from experience of an obviously close call. To think of a friend dying in that way would be horrendous.

Elizabeth slowly regained her focus. She cleared her throat and stared at the nonsensical papers scattered on her desk, blinking and shuffling them into some sort of order. "I guess I've been thinking about death too much lately."

"Understandable," Carson said softly. "I have been as well. I've been trying to picture meeting myself as an old man. The thought terrifies me."

"Really? You too?"

"Och, dear, I doubt that there is a single soul in the universe who isn't afraid of growing old, or dying. I've seen the body shut down so many times, and each time I wonder what it is like. Not to the point of obsession, or I'd be long ago in the nut house, but I do wonder."

Elizabeth rested her elbows on the desk, looking at Carson. Really looking. "Must be hard, playing with the course of life and death. Euphoric, but at the same time, helpless."

"Aye, it does at that. You get used to it to a point, but there are times when it really gets to you, you know? To constantly see the body decline, or give up, especially when it is someone who should've had years ahead of them. My cousin died young, of cancer. I was his physician, he'd have no other. I was fresh from medical school, and convinced I was going to cure the world with my research. And my first task, other than the research, was to watch my cousin die slowly and painfully."

"I never knew that, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth said quietly.

"It was a real eye-opener, to be sure, especially for someone just starting out. But it kept me from getting too complacent."

Elizabeth raised her brows in a self-depreciating manner. "And I've been worrying about my own experience. You're faced with mortality much more often that I am, and you manage."

"You shouldn't feel bad, lass. Just don't let it get in the way." He leaned forward, and rested his hand on hers. "Grieve, Elizabeth. You've done away with the ashes, but you still must grieve. It doesn't matter the circumstance. Cry."

She stared at his hand on hers, at the peaked knuckles, the rough fingers, the pure manliness of the form itself. And then she looked to the mass of sensitivity that was pure Carson. She knew she could cry, openly, and be safe with him.

And she finally did.


	9. Chapter 9

"So, d'you see her?" Sheppard walked around the corner, finding Rodney still backed against the wall, his eyes distant and deep in thought. John frowned and waved his hand in front of them. "Anyone home?"

"Of course someone's home!" Rodney snapped in his usual manner.

"Just checkin', cause it looked like the lights were out. You see her?"

"Yes, I saw her, and yes we talked."

"And?"

"And. . .she couldn't tell me much. At least nothing of interest to you."

"Big surprise there, huh?"

"Stuff it, Major." Rodney looked over his shoulder at the wall, paying special attention to the symbols, and started to study them silently.

John waited patiently for several moments, then inserted himself between Rodney and the writing with a smile on his face. "So, now what?"

"Major, would you please move?"

"What is this? I thought we were looking for a way outta here."

"This may very well be a way outta here."

"Uh, no. I don't think so." John walked to the middle of the hall. "Time to find the gate, find Ford and Teyla, and skedaddle. Besides, what's with this crystal thing? You said something about a crystal, then kind of dropped the subject."

"I've already told you, Lt. Ford and Teyla aren't here. And I dropped the whole crystal thing because I haven't yet decided what to do."

"I say Ford and Teyla _are_ here, and okay, I see." John started to walk away when Rodney pounded his fist against the wall in frustration. "Hey, take it easy! You okay?"

"I'm fine!"

"Uh-huh." John's eyes were tight in disbelief. "Listen, exactly what did she say to you?" Rodney didn't look at him, he just turned and walked rapidly down the hall, with John at his shoulder. "I said, what did she say to you? Hey!" He stopped the other man and spun him around. "Answer me!"

"It's really none of your business, Major!"

"It is my business! Anything to do with getting us off this station and back home is absolutely my business!"

"I thought you didn't believe she existed! Thought she was a figment of my imaginary 'I need to feel wanted and safe' issue! Your words, Major, not mine, now will you please leave me alone so I can save our asses as usual?" He stormed into the console room and sat at the schematics before him. His hand waved over the technology, and he cursed loudly. "I can believe this. Can't even operate the fuckin' equipment and she. . .god dammit. . . Major! I need you again!"

"I'm right here, Rodney," John said calmly over his shoulder. He passed his hand over the control which unlocked the system, and observed Rodney. The man was sweating, his expression intense.

"Good. Now I'm going to do a quick study, so don't interrupt."

"And I'm supposed to do. . .what exactly?"

Rodney let out a long-suffering sigh. "Why don't you look for a database of some sort, and see if you can find some information on the people that lived here?"

"I thought we already tried that," John said patiently.

"Then look up the word, 'Eschu'."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well if I knew, I wouldn't tell you to look it up, now would I? It has something to do with the writing on the walls. Now leave me alone." His hands flew over the console, with the occasional help from John.

He sat back an hour later, near exhaustion. "I was right." And said nothing more.

John waited as patiently as he could. Which wasn't long. "About?"

"The chemical reaction within the walls is the source of the power. But I can't figure out how to synthesize it. I need to take a sample back to Atlantis, assuming we get back."

"Uh-huh. Now listen to this." John leaned forward. "First, swear to me that you really are seeing someone, that she's not in your head."

"Major, if I were crazy, don't you think I'd admit it?" He caught John's glare. "Fair point."

"There is a crystal."

"There is?" Rodney sat forward in his seat.

Sheppard nodded at the grid. "There." He pointed to a remote spot on the map before them. "That's where we need to go."

Rodney looked. "That's not the power source we saw earlier."

"No, we don't want that. We want to go here." He tapped the screen over the lines that represented the room next to it, and turned to pin Rodney with a serious expression. "Okay, say this crystal will bring the city to life, and it will rise to the surface. Just as you thought." John folded his arms. "Now, you're smart, but you're not that imaginative. Someone told you, didn't they?" He looked worried, just for a moment. "You really are seeing ghosts."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "She's not a ghost, Major, she represents the city. You touch the crystal, they wake up, the city goes up, bam. We're home." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

"And. . .before we wake them, I want to know exactly who we are waking."

"Didn't you hear me? I said we can go home. I could swear I just said that." John wasn't buying it. "Look, I told you, the people that built the city are the ones who built Atlantis. They are the same. They didn't escape to earth, probably because the stargate was located on Atlantis and you can't use two gates in the same location, because they cancel each other out. So for some reason, maybe these people were not able to get to Atlantis. Maybe they were preparing a defense for the two cities, or something, I don't know, point is. . .they were left here and placed in a deep, cryogenic sleep until the city woke them."

"Like Atlantis and Weir, I mean the first time she went."

"Only this time the city has produced the image of one who is sleeping. She isn't real, I mean she's real, but. . .I don't really get it because apparently she is an ascended being only she's come back to help the people here. . .anyway, this crystal is like the consciousness of the city. Activating it will release the original builders, get this baby powered up, and get us to the surface. We can use what ever power source they have within these walls to help power up Atlantis, and use their knowledge to help prevent further Wraith attacks."

"Because they've been so successful thus far."

"Forgo the sarcasm, you're not gifted enough." Rodney pointed to the bright blip on the screen. "It's quite a walk, and with any luck we'll pass the inhabitants on the way down, so we really can see who we're waking up." He gave John a serious look. "This is the only way."

"You're sure about this."

"Look, I've been thinking about this ever since I first saw her. There is no gate here. We're wasting our time looking for one. We need to activate this city, and get it to the surface. Then you can surf home for all I care."

"You don't surf."

"I don't need to. Now, are we going, or not?" Rodney was standing, angled impatiently towards the door.

"Lead on." John waved his palm toward the hall, and followed the scientist out.

>

Dr. Carson Beckett rubbed his eyes wearily and closed the lid to his laptop. He sat still for several moments, not fully convinced his legs were stable enough to carry him the short distance to his current sleeping quarters. Thoughts of his bed taunted him, and he knew he needed the rest he was prescribing to everyone else. But the thought of closing his eyes sent a pain of realization up his spine, a shock that said he should be doing something, not resting.

He knew Weir hadn't slept. He knew Teyla and Ford were resting only with the aid of medications. And he was painfully aware of Rodney's medical chart sitting on the corner of his desk, patiently waiting for the check marks that would indicate his physical was complete. His appointment had been scheduled, much to his chagrin, and now he was well overdue. Which probably wouldn't harm him in the least, but dying just to get out of a bloody physical was bloody inexcusable, and when he and Major Sheppard were found, and they would be, he'd damn well give Rodney an earful about that. Pending death was no excuse. Carson would be certain to retain him for as many test as he could think of, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing the man complain, just once more.

He sighed deeply, almost painfully, and grimaced as he slowly pushed himself from the desk. Nurse Conway looked at him and nodded, her expression not revealing much, but he was used to that from her. He straightened his back, arching slightly and groaning at the pops along his spine, and slowly walked to the door. Just an hour or so of rest, to readjust his system. No more.

Of course he hadn't counted on walking right into Elizabeth Weir in the corridor.

Scared the bejesus out of him. Her eyes were haunted, and in the dim light she looked like an illusion, like the edge of a dream upon waking. He would have questioned her presence if he hadn't walked right into her, heard her soft startled grunt as the collided, her quick apologies afterwards.

"What are you doing lass?" he asked, so taken aback by the encounter that he sounded like a father reprimanding a child. Her lost expression was indeed very young, and fresh, and needy.

"I'm sorry, Carson, I just. . .were you headed to your quarters? I should let you rest, I really do apologize. . ."

"No, Elizabeth, wait! What can I do for you?"

She looked down, and it occurred to Carson that her posture was unusual in itself. She was normally a straightforward woman, and made it a point to look people in the eyes, unblinking. It was the one thing that radiated the power and self control she possessed, and made the other person feel like she was not only listening to every word being said, but absorbing it into her very flesh.

He had joked before, when she cut her arm on the edge of a vicious piece of machinery, that he was startled to see she had blood; he was convinced she had nothing but compassion and other people's worries running through her veins. He couldn't think of a better person to run the station.

And now that person stood before him, before _him_, trembling.

"Would you like something to drink?" Carson tilted his head down, searching for her eyes. She did look up, and nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line. "Come on, then." Gently he took her elbow, and they walked down the corridor, passing windows that revealed a dark ocean. Considering the circumstance, it was the last thing either of them wanted to see.

Beckett's quarters were very clean, which was to be expected, and bare, which was also to be expected. Not many personal items were taken to Atlantis. There were a few pictures, one she presumed was his mom, the others were various family members maybe, or friends, colleagues. There was a picture of the ocean from high cliffs, obviously Scotland, and she stared at it. Odd to think, of all the pictures to bring to a city on the sea, he chose a picture of the waters. She thought to question him about it, and changed her mind as the aroma of mint tea filled the air. Carson walked over to her with two steaming mugs. "Mum used to make this when I felt bad. Mint is supposed to lift the spirits. Good for headaches as well."

"You miss your mom." Elizabeth took the seat beside the window, oddly enough.

"Aye, who doesn't? I just hope everything is okay, I can't stand not being able to call her."

Elizabeth nodded and sipped. Her dark hair hid her face, until she gave it a conscious shake and asked, "What did you do in Scotland, Carson? I mean, other than going to medical school. What did you enjoy?"

Carson blinked once, and concealed his surprise with pleasure that someone realized that there were times when a person simply needed to talk about home. "I played rugby a lot, actually. Never was very good at golf."

"In Scotland? You couldn't play golf?"

"Aye, I was a right ripper when it came to rugby. But golf, now I don't care who invented it or why, but I can't get a grasp of it. No patience to just walk a bloody green course searching for a tinny ball that has a mind of it's own. I say to it, 'go then, do what you want, cause I'm goin' to the rugby game anyhow.'" Elizabeth laughed. "What about you, then? What did you do with yourself?"

She thought for a moment, cupping her hands around the warm mug. Her legs were drawn underneath her, her thin frame making her look more and more like a child. Outside, the waves rolled inland. "I was a gymnast for a while," she said, "I liked the feeling of tumbling through the air. Purposefully, of course."

"I'd of thought you a dancer."

"Oh, I did that too. And horseback riding, and swimming. Even some figure-skating, when I was very, very young."

"A woman of many talents." Carson smiled. Her grin in response was small, and her head tilted back towards the window. His smile faded as the sadness crept back into the faint lines around her mouth. "Most people are asleep this hour, Elizabeth. What keeps you awake?"

She didn't turn to him. She seemed to be giving the answer more thought than it deserved, or was schooling her answer. "I'm tired, Carson. You'd think I could sleep."

"There is a difference in being tired, and being fatigued. Which are you?"

"I'm. . .tired. I'm tired of the worry, of the death, of not knowing what I'm doing here. I volunteered for this expedition. I'm the leader here. But, maybe I shouldn't be. I find myself questioning everything lately, and that includes the decisions I've made."

"Do ye question this because your other self nearly failed in her expedition?"

"She – I mean I. . .dammit, I don't even know how to refer to her! How do you talk about someone who is you, but isn't you?"

"'Liz' would be a start."

Elizabeth gave a small chuckle. "All right then. Liz. Liz went to Atlantis, just like me, with good intentions like me, and everyone was killed, all except for her. Why?"

Carson studied his cup. Elizabeth was looking intently at him, with that expression he so admired, but this time she wasn't soaking up the problems of others, but pouring hers out with the same amount of energy. Carson only hoped he could play the opposition well. "You seem to forget, if you hadn't gone back and triggered the failsafe, we wouldn't be here now. For whatever reason, you were meant to survive."

"But why did it go wrong the first time?"

"I don't know. Only time will tell, if it ever does. But what is important, is that we are here. Now."

"Not all of us." The sorrow in her voice was all too evident. And understandable.

Carson set down his mug and kneeled before her. He took her cup and clasped her hands between his own. "Listen to me, lass," he said, "this isn't your fault. Do you understand me? This was the work of something else that we cannot control, and has nothing to do with you. No one blames you. Please stop blaming yourself. You cannot go about trying to take responsibility for everyone on this station, trust me, I know. I try and get people to do like they should, but they just think I'm spouting off rubbish from the hypocritic oath." He grinned as Weir laughed at his word play.

"Good one."

"Thank you, I rather liked it. But take my point, Elizabeth. And don't give up hope. You never know what the likes of those boys are up to. They may have found a pleasant beach and are going for a swim."

Weir studied him. "You really believe that?"

Carson's face stilled. Of course he didn't believe it. But something in him wasn't ready to give up hope. "You never know, do you?" He squeezed her hand. "It is a lot to take in, being here. A lot to be afraid of. Let yourself be afraid, let yourself feel it. That is the only way you can learn to cope with it when it does happen. We're all afraid. The strongest, cope, and you are strong, my dear. Never, ever doubt that."

Elizabeth blinked at her cup. She sniffed and gave a firm nod. "Like I said earlier, we take you for granted."

"And like I said, you don't. But I'll keep a tally, just in case." He stood. "Now, do you want something to help you sleep?"

"No, thank you. I need to be able to wake up, should duty call."

"Aye, that would probably be a good idea." Carson smiled around his cup.


	10. Chapter 10

"Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

"Ever wonder why there are so many consoles in this place?"

Rodney really didn't care. He only cared that he was tired, that his feet ached, and that he was way overdue for a meal. It was a wonder his sugar hadn't dropped, that he was still standing, and he chalked it up to pure nerves. After this was over, if he survived, he'd collapse in a dead heap and make the major feel sorry for ever putting him on a submarine in the first place. "I guess because the only thing to do at the bottom of the ocean is play solitaire."

John wasn't phased. "Each room has some sort of console. And each one has a different database."

"So it's a research station," Rodney said, offhandedly. And froze.

There was another pair of eyes. Right in front of him.

Rodney yelled out and ducked, pulling John down with him. The major yelled out in anger, then his eyes widened as he took in the eyes glaring down at them, eyes which suddenly vaporized. Both men stood shakily. "Not your girl?"

"No."

"Then what the hell. . ."

"I don't know, look, let's just go in here for a minute, okay?" Rodney pulled at John's sleeve and walked through the doorway, and into a room with yet another horseshoe shaped console.

John shook his head and sighed. "Ever get the feeling we're walking in circles?"

"What's this one say?" McKay was forcing down his sudden fright by sitting on the floor, his arms on his raised knees. His eyes were closed as he made himself relax. No food, no drink, scare not good for the heart. . .passing out imminent. . .

"Well, if you want to take the time to. . .McKay? McKay!" He rushed over and propped the man against the wall. "What is it?"

"Need to eat something. . .head fuzzy."

"Crap." John rummaged in his vest and pulled out a wrapper. "Only one I have, and I'm not guaranteeing. . ." Rodney snatched it and tore the wrapper open, biting halfway down the powerbar. "Course, doesn't really matter, I guess." Rodney just looked at him through slitted eyes. "Okay, look, you rest. I'm gonna see what else I can find out about this city, okay?" McKay just nodded as he chewed.

John clapped his arm and stood, jerked his shoulders back to loosen them, and sat at the controls. God, he hated research. Every terminal looked the same to him, and seemed to run in the exact same manner, but he had noticed that each one had its own purpose. One for monitoring energy, one for station layout, he presumed for repairs, one science station, and this one. . .appeared to be a library. He combed through the references until he managed to find one that was semi-intelligible. There were even drawings. John smiled, wondering if he had in fact stumbled onto a library, and into an old children's picture book. One of the pictures in particular caught his eye, and he allowed what words were recognizable to trickle in. Next thing he knew, he was engrossed.

She was in his dream. It wasn't possible. It definitely wasn't necessary. She leaned over him, and he was aware he was sitting on the floor. He could even see Sheppard reading something on the terminal before him, fully engrossed. Was he asleep, or not? "What's going on?" His voice carried, but Sheppard didn't stir.

"You were ill. I was concerned."

"This? This is nothing. I've been worse." He frowned. "How are you able to be here? I mean, he-he can't see you, right?"

"We are connected, Rodney McKay. It happened the first time you saw me, that was how I knew you would be the one to take the path."

"Okay, back to this path thing. I'm not a path finder, nor trail blazer, I detest bugs and I hate hiking. I prefer a desk and some experiments, and when possible, a TV. I abhor nature, I loathe animals, other than cats of course, and I burn easy. I stay on my track, and I hate being shoved off! So get over this path thing, cause it isn't going to happen."

"You were right."

"What?"

"About the walls. You are correct." And she proceeded to explain.

Rodney woke just as John spun in his chair. Both men faced each other, full of news, and both rattled it off, voices overlapping.

"Alive!"

"Nono, listen to me, there was this war. . ."

"It stayed at the bottom, we have to wake. . ."

"Yeah, see, and they were sunk. . ."

"Okay waitwaitwait!" Rodney's hands flew to his head. "You're worse than an organ grinder! Will you just shut up for a minute, this is important!" John raised his brows and made an impatient gesture. "Thank you!" Rodney took a breath. "I was right about the walls. It isn't only a chemical reaction, it's an organic reaction." He waited.

John leaned towards him, intrigued despite himself. "Okay, wait. This is. . .organic?"

Rodney nodded. "Think of it as blood running through the walls. The city's a living being."

"Alive?"

"Yes!" Damn if his eyes weren't actually sparkling. "Isn't it amazing?"

"You mean we're walking inside something's guts ?"

Rodney winced. "Only you could be so crude, but in a manner of speaking. . .yes. It's tapped into the mainframe, as it were. It not only runs the city, it _is_ the city."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Rodney raised his chin toward the console. "Why, what'd you find?"

"Oh, nothing quite so big. Just that there was a war between these people and the Atlanteans, and that this city is down here for a very good reason."

"Major, what are you talking about?"

John leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, pleased with the notion that, for once, he was filling McKay in, rather than the other way around. "There was a rebellion. The Atlanteans were following the way of the Eschu, which is a doctrine that reveals the "universal source", or a higher element of being that is the next step in evolution. How this doctrine was founded is unclear, but it's been around before even the Atlanteans. They adopted it as their philosophy, and with it was able to form a civilization very much like paradise, because everyone wanted to be on their best behavior, as it were, in order to ascend. This lasted for thousands of years, and with their advanced technology they were able to tap into this 'source' that allowed them to achieve the next step of awareness. But not everyone could do it, I don't know if it was a genetic thing or what, but their technique was very experimental. Either way, it laid down the foundation for the society. And as with every big barrel, you have your bad apples."

"You mean there were some that saw ascension as a mean of power and not spiritual advancement," Rodney supplied.

"Bingo. So you have a faction that wants to use this information to ascend and carry on their own spiritual growth, and you have those that want to use this 'ascension' thing as a means of power, and not follow the way of Eschu. These renegades took hold of an underwater base, this base, which was a last refuge against the Wraith. During the evacuation they set themselves to hibernate, knowing that when the time was right they would awaken with the power and knowledge of the ascended Atlanteans, and rise again to take over Atlantis and defeat the Wraith." He wagged a finger. "But! They wanted more. After the Wraith, they intended to control everything, because they are 'enlightened beings' whose task it is to set the universe to right."

Rodney digested this information in amazement. "How did you learn all this?"

"I can read, McKay." He swiveled the chair back towards the screen. "But pictures, mostly."

"Photographs?"

"Of course not. What I couldn't make out in text, I gathered from the pictures."

Rodney walked to the console and looked. "Major, these are children's stories!"

"Yep."

"You're getting your save the universe, vital info from Sally, Dick and Jane!"

"Hey! At least I didn't imagine mine! Your source is so much more reliable?"

"Dot came to me in my dream! She said. . ." he hesitated thoughtfully, "she said we're connected."

Sheppard waved his hand in the air. "Great. Bring her along for the ride. What the hell."

"Major, are you sure about this information?"

"Sure enough that I really want to check out these sleepers before we go waking them up, or anything."

"So. . .if the city is alive. . .and we are to wake it. . ." Rodney looked up. "Maybe it isn't people we are supposed to wake. Maybe it's just the city itself."

"But you said this Dot person was a manifestation of someone who was sleeping."

"True." Rodney looked down, then backed away slowly. "Uh-oh."

"What is it?"

"Major, back away from the controls."

"What?"

"I said, back away, now!" The console suddenly erupted in sparks, hissing and spitting and sending electricity into the air. John threw his arm over his eyes, his chair falling over and spilling him out.

The console exploded.

Rodney rolled on the floor, his palms pressed over his eyes, then clasping his head. Sizzling noises filled the air, and subsided. Rodney slowly uncovered himself, wincing into the charged air. "Major?" He heard a groan and felt his way across the floor. "Damn technology. Major, are you hurt?" He changed his direction in response to a groan, and bumped into something soft that cursed lightly. "You okay?"

"Lights are out." The voice was disoriented.

"Only in here. Come on, get up." He felt for Sheppard's arm, and pulled. The man beside him reluctantly moved, shifting to his knees and unsteadily pushing himself to his feet.

"What the hell was that?"

"Damned inefficiency. Bad timing. Either that or the city didn't like that we discovered what we did." He felt Sheppard's question. "It's alive, remember?" He escorted Sheppard out into the corridor and propped him against the wall, looking him over in subtle worry. "Sure you're okay?"

"Will you stop asking me that?"

"You're not answering me!"

"I'm fine, I just got. . .singed."

"Uh-huh." McKay's eyes roamed up and down, proving to himself that the major wasn't lying. Last thing he needed was a dead body to worry about, it would be hard enough to get his own ass out of there. "I guess your kid's books hit close to home. Things were peachy until you tapped into the fucked up mind of a psycho city."

"You were the one who said to look up Eschu! Don't blame this on me!"

"I do blame you, Major!" Rodney backed up a step so he could jab his finger into Sheppard's chest. "I blame you for the explosion, I blame you for being here, I blame you for putting me on that sub without running proper tests first! I mean, what the hell were you thinking? Now were stuck in the belly of a beast that wants us dead! How's that feel Major, huh? Feeling adventurous?"

Sheppard worked his mouth, and his dark brows drew close over his frown. His voice was threatening. "Now, you listen here! None of this is my fault. . ."

"Oh, because you've done such a great job of planning so far!"

". . .and you are out of line!"

"Out of line? Me? That's a laugh! I not only toe the line, I erase it! I rub it out! No line, no restrictions, no attachments, nothing to lose! Like my life!"

"You are one paranoid son of a bitch."

"With good reason! Can you possibly comprehend what the day-to-day activities of Atlantis would be like without me? With someone like Kavanaugh in charge? You need me, Major, you all do. I'm not into self preservation for myself, it's for everyone else."

John pushed off the wall unsteadily. "You're incredible."

"Now's not the time to suck up. . ."

"No, I mean, you really think that! You really, honestly think that the universe revolves around the great Rodney McKay, don't you?"

"Major," Rodney said patiently, "the only world I live in is my own, and I am the center of it. There is nothing unusual about that, only the fact that if I die, my world will cease to exist. And who needs that? Huh? Who needs that? My world, Major. My world, in my own head, all me, filled with all of my ideas and theories and affirmations. I can't imagine not having that! So hell yes, the universe revolves around me, just as it revolves around you in your own head! So stop being so damn smug like you know what you're talking about, because I can guarantee you don't know a thing about me!"

"Oh, cut the crap! You hole yourself up and hide behind this oh-so-intelligent brain of yours and claim not to care, but I've seen you care, Rodney. I know you better than you think, so stop the damn act!"

Rodney stood nose to nose. "You don't know shit."

"I know you care."

"That's a lie."

"Admit it, McKay. You're a softy!"

"Screw you, Major!"

"You care far more than you let on!"

"Fuck yourself!" Rodney was storming down the hall.

"McKay, I. . ." John gave a sudden cry of pain and doubled over. He was on his side when Rodney reached him, face twisted in fear.

"Major? Major, what is it? Oh god, please, you lied to me, you said you were okay. . ."

A hazel eye opened. "Gotcha."

"Son of a. . ." Rodney shoved him away as Sheppard grinned. He was quite proud of the rather extensive vocabulary McKay possessed. He chuckled, then winced because dammit, he did hurt, and braced against McKay.

"I'm sorry, I. . ." he laughed silently, "I had to prove it. Your scientific inquiry's got the better of me."

Rodney's mouth was working underneath his glare. "You. . .are an ass."

"Maybe, but we clarified one thing." John found his footing, and confronted the scientist.

"What."

"You're afraid to die."

"What?" Rodney pulled back.

"You are! You're afraid to die."

Rodney sputtered in the face of the obvious. "Well. . .aren't you?"

"Sure I am! Who the hell isn't? But I don't harp on it, I don't look at every crisis as the last one! Beside, with you it goes way past any normal fear."

"Do you seriously want to picture a world without me in it?" He spun on his heel. "I don't!"

"Are you seriously going to ask me that?" John reached out and caught Rodney's arm. "Hey, look." He noticed the tense lines in the man's face, the way he suddenly snatched his arm away without thinking. "This really bothers you, huh?"

Rodney looked at Sheppard, and everything about him was ready to deny all fear. But Sheppard wasn't throwing verbal punches, and his full attention caught the scientist off-guard. Rodney's soul collapsed in a sigh. "You've no idea. I mean, I can't stand the thought of me ending. Me! I'm a scientist. Curiosity is all that I am, that and a packet of damn good information. See, I have to have a puzzle, I have to be able to think. To just stop, to become nothing. . .terrifies me." He licked his lips and looked down, uncomfortable with sharing so much. Then without another word he walked through the nearest doorway.

"And yet you constantly put your life on the line," Sheppard said, following closely behind.

"Yeah, I've really gotta stop doing that. Oh look! Another console."

John was shaking his head, finding within him an odd and rather annoying need to reassure this brilliant man. "Besides, who says you become nothing? I mean, look at the Ancients. Hell, look at all the sentient beings we've found that aren't anything remotely close to humanoid, and have survived dying. . .sort of."

Rodney knew he was trapped in a conversation he never intended to start. He leaned on the console, yet another goddamn console, this place was nothing but rooms filled with machines taunting him because they held clues he could not decipher. But he was beating the system. His palms were pressed against the cool metal, bracing him physically, and almost emotionally. His distressed expression turned towards a distant spot on the floor. "Do you believe in God?" he asked, reluctantly.

John frowned. "What?"

Rodney looked at him. "I said, do you. . ."

"No, no, I mean I heard you, I just – I wasn't expecting a question like that."

There was a moment's silence. "Well, do you?" Rodney pressed.

His blue gaze was intent on Sheppard's, his face carved in perfect seriousness. John opened his mouth and closed it again, and gave the question due weight, considering the sincerity of the subject. "I think so," he said quietly. "I mean I did when I was little; my parents were Catholic so I went through the usual Sunday services complete with pot roast dinner, did they whole candlelight mass, confirmation. Even confessed once or twice, not because I felt I'd done something wrong, but because it was something Catholics did. But do I believe in a Christian god? Maybe not so much."

"Really." Rodney straightened. It was obvious he found Sheppard's admission fascinating. Even distracting. "So. . . what do you believe then?"

This was a conversation John never expected to have with Rodney, and certainly not to this degree of seriousness. "To be honest? Haven't given it a lot of thought. I think I believe in God more out of habit than anything else."

"This life we lead, it, uh. . .it makes you question the validity things, say, the Bible for instance, doesn't it?"

"The Bible can still be perfectly valid."

"Sure, as far as casting the first stone, but I don't recall a verse that says, 'And on the seventh day, God created the Wraith.'"

"No, that would be the sixth day. Now we know why he rested on the seventh." John waved away Rodney's disgusted look. "I know, I know. I get what you're saying. And I'm saying, don't dismiss it so easily."

"Easily? You think it's easy to dismiss faith?" He checked himself, and flung his arms in disgust. "Okay, you know what? You're right. It is easy. Too damn easy. We look upon every other faith as a myth, why not our own? For all we know, Christ was a fucking Ancient!"

John's ingrained piousness reared its head. Of course, with everything they had seen, with all of the faiths that have been proven more as societal control than anything, he could see how Rodney would take his view. Hell, from what he knew of the Jaffa, their entire culture was turned upside down. Granted, on the whole, they seemed to be handling it well, considering they had been told their gods were dead and gone.

John leaned against the console beside Rodney and folded his arms. "There are those that say having faith, any faith," he said, "is the one thing that prepares you for death. To me, you just have to accept that it's going to happen." He spread his hands. "I mean, think of it as the next step up. You can't be that afraid of it, look at the work you do! Look at the number of times you've stuck your neck out and paid the price. That's not fear of death. I think maybe you have a healthy respect for it." He cocked his head. "Besides, you never struck me as the religious type."

"No, no, I'm not. What you just said sounds more like faith to me." Rodney looked down. "I think," he continued softly, "when we end, that's it. We're ultimately just a collective mass of electrons and subatomic particles that merely disperses once we kick the proverbial bucket. There's no fanfare, no choir, no angels, no pearly gate. Just. . .oblivion." He shook his head sadly. "Eternal blackness. And what's even worse, if you don't make a name for yourself, you're completely forgotten. I mean, everyone who remembers you will eventually die, right? And the memory goes with them. If there is a heaven, there's no banners up there that say, 'oh, hey, look, it's Dr. McKay, he did such and such.' After we die, we've got what, a good thirty years max to be remembered, if those people don't go senile first." His voice rose with emotion. "I'd like a monument, you know? Something really big, not over the top, I mean, but significant. So everyone knows what I did, that I made a difference, that my life had meaning."

"You ever consider the fact that it doesn't matter if you life has meaning? I mean. . .you'll be dead, anyway."

"Are you serious?"

"Then what about those times you sacrificed yourself, that has meaning."

"Oh, yeah, only to 'ultimately fail'," Rodney said miserably, thinking back to "elder Weir" and her story about the "other Rodney" who failed in his attempts to save the team from the oncoming torrent of water, which flooded the city and led to Sheppard's biting comment.

John remembered too, and winced. "I may have been wrong to say that. Because you didn't fail. You got Elizabeth out of there."

"No, she got herself out of there. You got her out of there."

"But you convinced her to go. She could have stayed. It was a little thing, but it was a thing, something you did, that made a difference. Otherwise, the city wouldn't have risen. You are partially responsible for that, you know." And he fell silent with the disturbing thought that a part of him had recognized a part of Rodney. For all his talk, his theories, his brilliance and self-righteousness, the man was internally as insecure as they come. He was truly afraid of being alone and forgotten, which was a powerful, disconcerting emotion for such a stoic and analytical mind. And one John could totally relate to. "I guess we could paint your likeness on the windows near the east tower."

His face was earnest, and it took a moment for Rodney to realize he was teasing. Conversation over, he snapped himself upright and focused on the problem before them. "Yes, well, that's where the sun rises, correct?"

"Here? Does it?"

"Look, who cares? "

"Rodney?"

"Yes, Major?"

Sheppard leaned in, still a bit taken aback by the sudden humanity that Rodney had let slip. "Why the discussion? We're not going to die down here."

"You never know, Major," Rodney muttered softly.


	11. Chapter 11

It seemed to take forever, but Weir had the news she had been waiting for. Not only that, but young Fleischman, who said he was twenty-three but looked every bit of twelve, could pilot the small sub. "Technically," he said as he passed his hand along the outer hull, "both crafts are submersibles, not really submarines, though the other one was large for a submersible. But I guess as far as the Atlanteans are concerned, that's arguing semantics. I mean, what they classify as a submarine may not be what we would normally. . ."

"Are you certain your gene will operate this?" Weir cut in.

"Seems to. I've powered it up with no problem." A grin split his face, and Weir took back her opinion that he looked twelve. Definitely eight. "Can I keep it?" She had a feeling he was only half-kidding.

"If you locate Dr. McKay and Major Sheppard intact, then yes. But you have to ask permission before going outside to play."

Ford and Teyla were running towards her, gear in hand, ready to set off. She merely nodded their way, not wanting to delay them by using words, and not wanting to jinx the mission in that manner. Her face said everything, and their glances back before entering the sub spoke volumes. Elizabeth retreated to the gate room, and watched helplessly as the room flooded, and the smaller sub was launched. She eyed the rough map that Ford had sketched, and its twin on the monitor before her. She'd have several hours to wait.

Always waiting.

>

How someone could just disappear from sight, without a trace, never ceased to baffle Rodney. Especially when he had been keeping up a constant dialogue, okay, granted it was with himself, but that didn't matter. The major should have been there listening. It was important, dammit, he wasn't talking just to hear himself talk. Well, okay, maybe a little of that. "Major, if you don't answer me, I swear I'll. . ." he hesitated, tossing about for a viable threat, "I'll draw a mustache on Johnny Cash! I swear I will! A big, fat milk mustache with really white, really tacky glue so you can't disguise it! You got that?" He waited. "Oh, okay, not a good enough threat, huh? Fine! We'll see what else I can come up with!" He cursed and swung his light around. It made sense that so much of their equipment would be waterproof, but he never appreciated that fact until now. His little drowning adventure should by all rights knock out any and all equipment stored in his vest, but as luck would have it, waterproof. Well, except for his notebook, that was sogged, and now the pages were permanently married to each other. It was disgusting. "Major! This isn't funny, we really don't have time for this!" He cursed again, and spun, shining his light right into a pair of glowing red eyes outlined in black. He yelped, dropping his light, but a familiar voice eased his fear somewhat.

"What is wrong?"

"What's wrong? What the hell's up with your eyes? You've never done that before!"

"Forgive me, it must be the lack of light." The room he was in brightened slightly. Rodney knelt down and retrieved his flashlight, clicking it off. He looked up at Datanunana.

"Yeah, uh, likewise. You just startled me, that's all." He stood cautiously. "You here to help me find the major?" His shoulders sagged as a possibility struck him. "Is he stuck in another closet or something?"

"I merely wish to speak with you, Rodney McKay. When last I left you, I believe you were uncertain about the full implication of my offer."

"To ascend?" he asked casually. "Haven't given it another thought."

She grinned and walked up to him, looking up like an adoring child. "You liar," she teased lightly, "ascension has been the only thing on your mind since I mentioned it. I can tell."

"Have you been watching me?"

"I am always aware of you. Have you an answer for me?"

Rodney's brows furrowed, and he took a step back. "Answer? Now? You want me to decide now?"

"I do."

"Well," he realized he was practically whining, and forced his voice steady, "it's a pretty big decision, I mean you can't just launch head long into something like this, it had to be weighed out, pros against cons, viable options against unviable, life against death. . ."

"No death, Rodney McKay. There is no death here."

"Ah-ah, see, you're wrong. Anubis. He was semi-ascended, and he died."

Her confusion was almost cute. "I have heard of this being! But he is not dead."

"What? I mean. . .what?" Rodney stammered.

She tossed her head and walked away from him, eyeing the room as she spoke. "The semi-ascended are more prone to death, but even they do not fully die, not as you. Sometimes they are able to complete their ascension. Sometimes they are trapped, and doomed to live in the eternal torment of their sins."

"I see." He thumped the flashlight against his palm. "So this Eschu, is this like a purgatory? Is it the deciding factor between ascension and torment?"

"It is merely the path. The nature of ascension is up to the individual. I can assist you, but only you can walk the path."

"And you have no idea what will happen to me."

She gently wrapped her hand around his arm, giving it a reassuring shake. "You are a good man, Rodney McKay, with a good heart. No ill will come to you. It is an easy choice, and you will have the opportunity to do so much for your friends and for your city!"

"But I thought there was a law of non-interference?"

Datanunana seemed confused. "Why ascend if not to help others?"

"I, uh – good question. Unfortunately, I have no ready answer for that."

Her gaze penetrated his, and again he felt a burning heat deep within him. "Do you really want to die?" she asked quietly. "Do you really want everything you've worked for and achieved to fade away? You've spent your entire life in the pursuit of knowledge." She reached out and fingered his hair. "It would be a shame to lose it all as your body rots."

He felt a quick pain in his head, and Rodney's breath caught at the image thrust into his mind; of the weight of dirt pressing him down into the ground, of his brilliant brain liquefying and dripping from his ears as his eyes dried in their sockets. Of his quick fingers frozen forever as the flesh and muscle tore away from his bones. Of his lips pulling back from his teeth as they rotted, his silver tongue turning into mush. Of the stifling coffin heat, the smell of decay trapped around him. He jerked back, his mind reeling, and stumbled backwards. Small hands steadied him as he hid his face from the visions, then looked up. "How-how did you. . ."

"I can save you from that. You can carry on your creations. You will have more at your disposal than you have ever imagined."

She smelled so good. Like roses. Maybe a fresh breeze. And she looked so young. He shook his head. "No, you're playing tricks with me."

"Maybe. But you know the truth of it. You will die, Rodney McKay, and everything will die with you. Or it can live on forever. It is your choice. Would you be selfish and rot, or share yourself and fly with me?" He lips brushed his, so sweet, so alive, and then she was gone.

Rodney gasped for breath, his eyes tearing. He took a few steps back and sank against the wall, feeling a heaviness in his chest that compounded the fear in his heart.

Damn it all.

After several moments, he forced himself to his feet. Gathered his wits about him, pushed her out of his mind. Forced himself to relax. She was conning him, of course, but she had touched the skin of his innermost terror, and given him an out. Of course he couldn't accept it. He shouldn't.

But Daniel Jackson had. _And lord knows he was no saint_.

No, he thought viciously, no. I refuse. And in his head, a voice. . .

"We shall see."

>

John was truly pissed. It wasn't unusual that it was directed at Rodney, but the pure intensity of the emotion startled him. Even with the incident surrounding Chaya, he hadn't been this pissed at the scientist. Maybe it was because with Chaya, Rodney had at least had Sheppard's interests at heart, or either he wanted to prove himself right in his assumptions. But now, disappearing like this was just wrong. He had no more strength within him to be worried. He was convinced the errant scientist had wandered off, mindlessly babbling to himself, because he sure as hell wasn't paying any attention to it. He rounded a corner, and poof! The amazing disappearing McKay.

Son of a bitch.

The rooms and corridors were getting darker too. He flashed his light from one room to the next. The air felt heavy, like drooping eyelids, and he wondered if the city was falling asleep. Was too much energy being spent in lighting the entire place? Not like it had been in operation for years, it had to acclimate. Right? John was intrigued by the thought of a living city, though he didn't trust the inhabitants, wherever the hell they were, not until he confirmed with his own eyes that they were nothing like the Wraith. He'd already awakened one death threat, he had no desire to add to the list.

His light swept over a line of control panels along the walls. Well, at least the setup was different here. Nothing he attempted would turn the panels on. He was locked out. "I see," he muttered to the air, "you've got your temper up. You didn't like what we found out, huh? Or you're keeping us from finding out more. So what little secret are you hiding?" He continued to tap at the console, even thought he knew it was no good. "Got a crush on a certain mainframe, maybe?" He chuckled to himself, even as he heard the panicked yell further down the hall. His name was shouted twice before it registered, and even then it took a moment to realize that Rodney was in trouble.

His heavy boots pounded down the hall, the echo almost obscuring the frantic cries. He had to stop, to listen, to gauge a direction and go there. It took even longer to open the door, and he was at the point of trying to break it down when it slid open to a terrifying sight.

Rodney was in the floor. Not on it, but half inside it, and he gave a terrified cry. "MAJOR!"

John gaped at the sight before running into a belly slide, stopping within a foot of the vortex that was sucking McKay in. He was already up to his waist, and the fear on his face was unlike anything John had ever seen. He grabbed the man's hand in a white-knuckled grip, and already felt himself sliding into the yawing mouth. "Rodney! Listen to me, you have to pull up, you have to help!"

"You'll slide in!" Rodney's forced voice was steadier than his expression allowed. The trembling grip told the story.

"Try, dammit!"

"Oh, God!"

"Rodney! Fucking pull, damn you!"

Rodney pulled with all his strength, as did John, who felt his shoulder pop under the stress and blindly ignored the sudden pain. Rodney was being sucked in, he could feel it, feel the suction through the body he was so desperately trying to save. His hands clenched Rodney's wrists, and the poor man had a blood-stopping grip on his. John felt himself slide, despite his efforts. "Rodney!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

"What, you think I'm enjoying this?" It was a classic quip, and it almost brought a smile of relief to John's face, except that Rodney had wrenched a hand free, and he was loosening John's grip on his other wrist. "Major, let go!"

John grabbed Rodney's free hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving your ass, you inconsiderate bastard!"

Oh, hell no. "You selfish little shit!" John's anger returned. "Enough of the nobility act! Get you ass up here!"

"I can't, it's tearing me apart!" The fear had returned as he slid in further. His face was distorted as he fought the pull. "Let go!"

"No!"

"Dammit, let go, unless you just want half of me," he growled, his eyes flashing at John. And in that flash, John read fear, resignation, and something else. . .

"No, no, I've got you, see? You're not going anywhere. . . Rodney, Rodney! RODNEY!" There was a desperate blue glare, a last ditch effort to grip his hand, and the floor was solid. "Rodney!" Sheppard ran his palms over the floor, slapping it hard in anger, working his fingers into cracks that weren't there. His eyes darkened and smoldered.

His friend was gone.

No. He wouldn't accept that.


	12. Chapter 12

Fleischman looked like he was on vacation, not a rescue mission. His delighted eyes scanned the panels like a child eyeing the window of a candy store. Teyla, who was considerate, compassionate and understanding, leaned over in frustration. "Should we not make haste?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry, I just got caught up in all this." He gestured to the controls and grinned at her. When she didn't return the grin, he sobered and returned to his readings.

"I knew we should've got Baker," Ford grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a better pilot than Baker. Come on, Aiden, you know that."

"That's Lieutenant to you, Sergeant, now will you get this thing descending without all the chatter?"

Fleischman, a noncommissioned officer with more time in service than Ford, leveled an angry glare at his companion and muttered, "Yes sir," before laying in the coordinates that Ford handed him. He suddenly looked his age.

Teyla sat back, her troubled eyes drifting about the sub. She was not sure why they were back under water. The chances of her friends surviving were slim indeed, and yet she had the feeling that they were. She knew there was a city beneath the water, and she knew they were in it. It was a single beam of hope in her heart, one that almost flared as recognition of a latent power, as though to say, 'see? You have this gift of intuition, use it'. It had served her well in the past, adding to her skill as a diplomat and trader.

Major Sheppard had mentioned something once of a sixth sense, and accused her of having it. The concept took some explaining, and yet she still did not grasp it. It seemed that the minute observations that were common to her people were lost to the people of Earth. What they referred to as a sixth sense, she found perfectly normal, and so did her clan. It cause much confusion for some time, and at one point when she found a young woman with tiny wires protruding from a cap on her head, she drew the line.

Yes, there were a few differences, but as Beckett had pointed out, it was merely a genetic code that evolved from a life as warrior hunters, whereas apparently the human race on earth had grown more lazy and complacent, thus losing much of the survival skills that should be second nature to them, not sixth. So she had taken it upon herself to teach those around her how to hone their own skills and find the latent power within them. That was how she'd come to know the overly-enthusiastic Fleischman, who thought that the sessions would eventually come down to an ability to float his nemesis, whoever that may be, over the rail and onto the hard floor below, while pouring a cup of coffee in the next room.

It took some explaining to convince him that not only was this not possible, but it probably required some discussion with Dr. Heightmeyer. He declined the visit, and his fighting skills improved immensely. However, he continued to lack focus. Even now, as he adjusted the coordinates, she could see his attention wander. "Must we review our exercises on proper concentration?" she asked.

He snapped to, and the sub straightened. Ford barked at him. "I thought you could steer this thing, man!"

"I'm sorry! It's just. . .this is so cool and all, I always wanted to be on a sub. Besides, there isn't much to do while we head for the city, might as well enjoy myself. With all respect to the mission, of course."

Ford leaned over. "You do realize that's our friends down there," he said slowly and pointedly, "we aren't rescuing a kitten from a damn tree."

Fleischman nodded. "Yes, sir, I do." He said little more, but his attention continued to spiral around the sub.

Ford started another comment, then caught Teyla's eye. Don't, her expression plainly said, and she was probably right. From the looks of it, her plans were to give him a good what for the next time they met on the fighting mat.

Aiden swore to himself to make note of that particular appointment, and keep it.

>

John ran. He had no idea how many levels down he was, but each time he entered a new one he rushed to the area underneath the room where McKay had fallen. It wasn't rational, not totally, but it was the only thing he could think of. Maybe he was there. Maybe he'd just been sucked down a few levels by an angry city. Maybe this was a lesson, and they just needed to screw everything and get the hell outta dodge. And it was 'they', not just he, because there was no way he was leaving his friend behind.

Friend. When the hell did he start thinking of Rodney McKay as a friend? He was annoying, self-centered, egotistical, rude. . .and brilliant. He deserved every bit of self-importance he thrust upon himself. But it wasn't just that. They managed to hang out. They bantered. They fought, but it passed quickly. Hell, he was Sheppard, and McKay, was McKay, and there was nothing to be done about it, so they put up with it. The basis of their developing relationship had surprised him.

They understood one another.

They didn't have to like everything. Sometimes they didn't even like each other. But there was a mutual, unspoken agreement between them, that they had each other's backs in a pinch, which was a pretty stable foundation to build trust upon. And as it turned out, they did have a few things in common, mostly dry humor. And. . .when it came down to it, McKay was damned reliable. He'd proven his worth time and time again, and in doing so reluctantly proven that there was a heart somewhere beneath that swollen head of his. Not that Sheppard dwelled on such things, it was just as well for a man to just do his job and not worry about the intricacies of friendship. . .except that they were so far from home. Things were uncertain enough, since this particular galaxy played by a different set of rules. It was only fair that he did the same.

_Dammit, Rodney, you egotistical piece of crap. Where the hell are you?_

He'd checked his hand made map several times. Each level he descended, he came closer to the location of the mysterious crystal that would supposedly solve their problems; except the new information he had discovered caused some doubts. "And," he said aloud, eyeing the walls, "since you decided to eat my friend, you'll get no cooperation from me, understand? I could care less if you rise, and remember, I'm the only one who can do that. Right? You hear me?" He pounded his fist on a side panel and the door opened before him. "Yep. Big surprise there."

He closed the door without entering and slid to the floor, arms propped on his knees. Slowly he allowed Rodney's last moments to play out in his mind, his body being sucked into the vortex, the pure terror underneath the determination on his face. His anger grew, and so did a sudden realization, a thought so outrageous and possible that he launched to his feet and ran into the room, slapping his hand onto the console to operate it. "You son of a bitch," he muttered, remembering the form the vortex had taken. Yes, the vortex, the event horizon.

It was tiny, he doubted it operated as a stargate, but more like a transporter device from one part of the station to the other. "That's it, isn't it? He managed to operate a fucking temporal elevator." He keyed a few graphs, and located the energy reading that signaled the vortex in the room where he had lost Rodney, and found a like signal several seconds later, eight levels below. There was also a reading nearby that could only be the crystal. A long awaited smile found his face. "Gotcha." And as he studied the screen, he found an unexpected bonus.

That was when he felt the first tremor.

>

"I brought you something." Carson held up a small dixie cup.

Elizabeth stared. She didn't even know they had dixie cups. "What is it?"

"Something to help you rest."

"Carson, I have people down in a sub, I can't. . ."

"You can for a few hours, Elizabeth, and I'm not taking no for an answer. This won't knock you out or anything, I wouldn't do that to you. But it will help you to relax, and if you should doze, well, that's no bad thing, is it? When you wake, you'll be fully awake, not drugged."

She took the cup and the water offered. "You promise?"

"Are you sayin' you don't trust me?"

She gave him a sideways glance and swallowed the pills. "This has to do with my checkup, doesn't it?"

"Aye, it does. Your blood pressure is running a bit high. Not unusual under the circumstances, it is a wonder people in the Stargate program don't drop over from heart attacks in the halls."

"It's a stressful job. But I've always been a bit prone to it, in fact it nearly prevented me from going through the gate."

"That doesn't surprise me. But there are many here not in perfect health. I suppose, as bad as it sounds, it depends on who is more expendable as to who comes and who stays."

"Besides, you may find a remedy for high blood pressure and I can be your test subject!" She widened her eyes in humor.

Carson laughed. "I wouldn't hold my breath. But you rest now. I'm sure you will be notified when the submarine approaches the appropriate depth, and I'll make certain you are in the gate room. How's that, then?"

"Words to sleep on. Thanks, Carson."

"Anytime, dear." He smiled and walked out.

Elizabeth sighed and stretched out on the couch in the room. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

It would do for now.

>

His ass was sore. His body felt separated, but at least his head was still intact. Rodney rolled, groaning to wake the dead, and lay quietly on his side for several seconds before daring to open his eyes. And when he did, he stared up at the crystal before him.

Well, hello.

It wasn't as big as he'd hoped, or glamorous, or even pretty. It was a grey, skinny, chipped piece of clear rock. He pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly to it, analyzing it visually before touching it, wondering if he'd been brought down here to activate the crystal himself. He'd tried his radio several times, to no avail. But of course, why the hell should it work now? Sheppard only thought he was dead, god, he was probably in some corner mourning. Rodney needed him to get his ass down there. He was standing right before the crystal, and cupped his hands around it. With only a slight hesitation, he lifted.

Nothing happened.

Well – shit.

Rolling his eyes, he replaced the rock and sighed. "Major! Get you trigger-happy, rooster-headed sorry ass down here! I need you, now!" Yelling did nothing but hurt. He winced and worked a finger in his ear canal, spotting another set of consoles. Only these looked different.

And the tremor hit.

Rodney hurried to the console. A few were working, the typical, standard, useless systems that had activated when the city first detected their presence. He ran his fingers along the pads, keying up what information he could access, and found a set of symbols. They changed as he watched, keeping a steady rhythm.

Frowning, he leaned over the screen, studying the flickering images as another tremor hit. "Okay," he muttered, "this doesn't look good." He ran over to the crystal, picking it up carelessly, tossing it in his hand. "Crap! Busted." He slammed it back onto the stand and flung out his arms, addressing the galaxy in general. "Of course! Why the hell not! I mean, this place has only been here a thousand years or more, everything else is working, why the hell won't a piece a fucking carbon that's supposed to outlast civilization fucking work? Is that too much to ask? HUH?"

Another tremor sent him back to the console, where he once again puzzled over the screen. A glance over his shoulder showed the dais on which the crystal sat was lit. "Wait a minute." He straightened, recognizing the next tremor. He'd felt its kind before, and his eyes flew to the ceiling. "You're trying to raise the city!"

Datanunana appeared beside him, making him spin. "It is so."

"Well, stop it! You're tearing it apart, can't you feel that?" He pointed. "Your crystal is busted, it won't wake anybody, it won't activate anything. You don't have the energy needed to raise this place to the surface!"

"Atlantis rose."

"Yes, but. . ." he cast about for an explanation, "look, there is something different about this place. If this crystal worked, yes, the city would rise. . .somehow. Maybe we had a crystal that did work, and was activated when the failsafe kicked in. I don't know, I guess we have to go look for a crystal now. . .what I'm saying is, your city is broken. It won't rise, not like this." His face fell at the pain in her expression. "I'm sorry."

"It will try to rise. It senses you near the crystal, it is ready."

"Can it not sense that the crystal won't work?"

"Can you repair it?"

"Repair a crystal? No!" His face brightened. "But I may be able to bypass it." He hurried to the console and ducked underneath.

"The city will rise," Datanunana said, "or it will tear apart trying. And if that is so, all is lost."

Rodney swallowed. "Yeah, right, I got that." He resumed his work, feeling her leave. His sigh was deep, but lifted as a voice was heard behind him. "Rodney?"

Rodney peeked from underneath the console. "Major! 'Bout time, stick your hand on that thing, will you?"

"Well, I'm so glad to see you're safe," he muttered and did as he was told, mainly because there was another tremor, this one not so faint, and he wanted the hell out of there.

"I'm glad to be safe, thank you." Rodney winced and pulled out a crystal, looked at it, then shook his head and replaced it.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows in resignation, and noticed the dais in the center of the room. "That's it?"

"Yep."

"Doesn't look good."

"No, it doesn't, now will you shut up and let me try to fix it before we both drown in here?" He hesitated as he heard her voice, subtly, in his head, and gave it a firm shake.

John didn't miss a thing. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." There was a slight zap. "Dammit! I'm positive this equipment is not supposed to do that!"

"Rodney, I don't think this thing can be repaired. Look, I found something when I was looking for you, I'm going to go check it out. Think it may be a way out of here."

"Major, I'm working on our way out of here!"

"Rodney, you're playing with our way out of here, now stay in this room, okay?" He pointed a finger at the prone scientist in silent warning, and backed away. And Datanunana's voice replaced his.

"Can it be repaired?"

"Highly unlikely."

"Then. . .we die."

Rodney jumped, bumping his head on the underside of the console. He crawled out. "I said highly unlikely, not damned near impossible." He took the crystals he withdrew to the dais.

Datanunana looked sad. "It is a shame," she said quietly, "I never meant to hurt them."

"Who?"

"Your people."

Rodney stopped his work. "What are you talking about?"

"If this city is destroyed, it will release all of the reserve energies into the waters."

"And this will what, kill the fish?" He returned to his work, but his brain was working. A massive release of energy, and considering the kind of energy that would be released one had to consider not only shockwaves but water displacement. . ."A tsunami?"

"It is inevitable."

"Our shield won't. . ." he shook his head, "there's no way to warn them."

"I do not know if it would destroy the entire city."

"Look," Rodney examined the area supporting the crystal, "if there is all this reserve energy, why can't the city rise by itself?"

"The release code is imprinted. It must be genetically activated."

"And you can't activate this code yourself?"

"The city will not recognize it."

"Okay, that's odd." Another tremor knocked him to his feet. He looked up to see her staring down at him.

"I would hate to lose you, Rodney McKay."

"Well. . .you haven't lost me yet." He blinked, and she was gone. His gaze towards the spot she vacated was his only warning to avoid the large chunk of ceiling that crashed down. And yet another close call sent his mind into overload.

The saying, 'the best way to overcome a fear is by confronting it', was a sentiment that Rodney not only disagreed with, but dismissed as complete and utter bullshit. He had faced death many times before. He wasn't any less afraid. It seemed the only way to overcome the fear of dying, was to actually die. He wasn't even sure why it was such an issue now. Maybe it was the sheer number of close calls he'd had lately. That wasn't natural. But then what was natural in this bizarre, fucked up universe where images from your worst dreams had a tendency to walk right up to your face? Could be worse. He could be in one of those web things the Wraith enjoyed, having the life slowly sucked from him as his flesh decomposed, wrapped in oh-so-inedible cotton candy confection. Sweet rot. What a way to go.

Was it death itself he feared, or was it just that particular death? Hell, according to elder Weir, he had died already. Drowned. Sure, he was trying to save others at the time, but that wasn't the point. The point was, somewhere, in some alternate time line, he was dead already. And that theory was confusing in itself, because of the different times lines that parallel each other, which had been seen by stargate personnel, not to mention the whole elder Weir affair.

So, he actually died in a time line, but he was alive in this one. Now, if one could travel back and forth in time, then one could come up with one's self in another time, therefore theoretically he couldn't die, right? At some point in time, somewhere, he was alive. Right? Hell, he was an astrophysicist and he still couldn't make sense of it. It set up a mental block in him, contemplating his own demise. There were things, matters of life (and death) that just should not occur, and his final breath was one of them.

God, his hands were shaking.

He pulled out one crystal and examined it before quickly replacing it into the odd slot. Pulled out the next, and found it was dull, like a dim bulb. He pocketed it and popped open a panel where a spare should be. . .right there. That was it. The crystal slid into place, and Rodney slapped his hand on the console, waiting for his unique energy print to activate the system.

But nothing happened.

Funny thing about death. Seems a person can completely loath it, consumed with terror upon the mere thought of demise, until faced with it head on. Then a sort of calm acceptance takes hold of the body and mind, a cool breeze in the heat of adrenaline. Rodney stood there and just stared at the cause of his own demise. He'd messed up. At least it would be his final mistake, there would be no more.

"The crystal no longer works." Rodney snapped at John as the major entered the room. "There's no point in trying."

But Sheppard waved it away. "Look, I found a way out of here. Some kind of stacked donut-thing."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Rings? You found a ring platform?" He turned back to his work. "Huh. Thought that was the one thing the Goa'uld actually thought up themselves."

"What? No, never mind. Point is, we can leave." The station shook. "In fact, I think we should go right now."

"No, wait, just hang on. There has to be a way to save the city."

John bit back his impatience. "I know you think this is an interesting problem to solve, but. . ."

"Problem? Is that all this is to you, Major! There are beings down here that will die, not to mention the immense power that we might be able to tap! I thought our purpose to go down in the sub in the first place was discovery, well, we discovered, an now you want to haul ass!"

John was puzzled by the reaction. Normally Rodney would be at the escape route waiting for him before he could give directions. "Rodney, there is no way to make this city rise! Maybe when we get back to Atlantis. . ."

"It'll be too late." Rodney had crossed the room and was tapping the console. "This place will tear itself apart trying to rise."

"How do you know?"

Rodney gave a long-suffering sigh and straightened. "She told me."

"Who?"

"Her." Rodney casually pointed then leaned over his readouts. John turned.

And saw her.

He actually saw her. She wasn't a myth, a vision, a figment of a desperate imagination. She was there; in fiery, sensual glory. "Rodney. . ."

"Mm?"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah." His attention was elsewhere.

She walked to John, eyeing him with curiosity. "You hold on to him, so dear," she said, "it is a shame, really, but touching."

His eyes narrowed in distrust. "What are you taking about?"

"He holds the key. Yet you'll fight to prevent him from using it."

John felt a knot tighten in his gut. "Okay, I don't know what you're trying to say, but I don't like how it's sounding." The floor rocked, and she vanished. Rodney was still bent over the controls, his face tight in concentration. "We have to go. Now."

"Gimme another minute."

"Now, Rodney!

"Major, if this station is going, the least I can do is download what info I can!" He pulled out a small crystal disk he carried in his vest pocket, and inserted it into the console. "This will record the data found in this terminal, which we should be able to access at Atlantis, provided the disk isn't damaged. . .I found it four rooms ago, but I don't know if. . ."

"McKay, we don't have time for this. . ."

"And neither do they!" Rodney snapped, and she appeared again, right beside him, right as he glanced up anxiously at the trembling ceiling.

"There is another way," she whispered into his ear. "You know this. You can save him, and yourself, and the city. You know what to do." Rodney paled slightly, but his expression showed that he actually had been considering her offer; it wasn't a shock to him.

John noticed the expression, and he didn't like it one bit. "Rodney. . ."

"There's another way," he said quietly.

"Okay – so tell me!"

The blue gaze that met his held more terrified seriousness than Sheppard had ever seen. "I – I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've been thinking about it, and I don't mean just run-of-the-mill passing thought here, I've really been. . ."

"Rodney!"

"I can ascend." There. He said it. Datanunana stood at his shoulder.

"What?" He laughed. Sheppard actually laughed. "Be serious!"

"If I ascend, I can save the city, and these people, and prevent the inevitable destruction caused by the tsunami that will hit Atlantis once this place destroys itself, _if_ I don't save it!"

Sheppard stared. "Wait, you. . .you really are serious, aren't you?"

"Major. . ."

"You put this idea in his head, didn't you?" He pointed at Datanunana, who merely watched. "This is all your doing! I can't believe you'd use him like this!"

"Major!"

"Using you, Rodney! That's all this is! Ascension? What the hell would a person like you do with ascension?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Rodney snapped. "Yes, I have the chance to ascend. I can be like them. Now, if I can do what I do here, imagine what I can accomplish up there." His eyes raised to the unstable ceiling before falling back to his work.

John stared, incredulous. "That has got to be the most self-centered. . .I mean. . .how selfish can you get?"

"How is it self-centered to want to share my gifts with the rest of the universe?"

"Listen to yourself!" John could only shake his head. "You're unbelievable. This is crazy."

"What is?"

"Your fucking egotistical idea!"

"Oh, you're just jealous she didn't ask you," Rodney muttered.

John's brows raised, and he took a step closer. "You're actually considering this! You're . . .god, Rodney!"

Rodney smirked. "I've been complimented for my talents many times, but never by being referred to as 'god'. Chalk one up for the answer-man."

"Get real."

"When am I not real?"

"There are times. . .look, are you really considering ascension?" His eyes were intense, and Rodney knew he wasn't getting out of this easily.

"She seems to think it's the right thing to do."

"She? SHE? That Danahanahana bitch?" His eyes found hers, and he gave a mock bow. "Sorry," he muttered sarcastically. Then the next tremor had him on his knees, and a crack formed in the wall. A spray of water jetted in. "Rodney, we really don't have time for this!"

But Rodney's voice was flat. "Major, go to the rings."

"I'll be damned!"

"It's the only way! Look, I can guarantee your safety out of here, and I can save the city, plus. . ."

Sheppard was in his face. No way in hell was he going to allow this. "Plus what? What happens after that, huh? In case you missed the meeting, you have to _die_ to ascend, Rodney! What if you just die?"

But Rodney was shaking his head. Dantanunana stood just behind his shoulder, her small presence seeming overly large and grotesque as she blackly watched the conversation. Rodney didn't notice her intense expression. "Nonono, it'll be fine, you'll see. Not a problem." He gave a small smile, meant to be reassuring but falling short, and returned to the console, giving up as it went dark.

Sheppard followed the scientist, ignoring the presence of the Ancient, and snapped Rodney around to face him. "What if these people aren't worth saving, huh?" he hissed. "We don't know the truth here. I can't believe the people of Atlantis would leave this city down here unless there was a damn good reason. We don't have time to find that reason, and we don't have time for this discussion, now come on!"

But Rodney pushed him away. "Major, just listen! It isn't that. I've had time to consider this, not much granted, but the argument. . .I mean, think of what I'll be able to do! Think of the knowledge, I'll gain! I'll know everything I need to know!"

"And where's the fun in that? Huh?" Sheppard yelled. "Where's the scientific discovery in having it handed to you? The Rodney McKay I know would much rather gloat about finding the answers himself! That's what you live for!" His word hit home, and for a moment Rodney's face cleared. "There are other ways, Rodney!" He fixed him with a desperate stare, then popped the burning question, the one that had nagged at him in the back of his mind, ever since Rodney first mentioned Dantanunana, "Why you, Rodney? If I have the gene she wants, why did she come to you?"

His answer was immediate. "Because she knew I'd appreciate the knowledge."

But John grabbed his arms, and forced his words into Rodney's heart. "Because she knows you'd ascend, Rodney. Because you're so afraid of dying and becoming nothing, that you'd rather give up what you have for that chance."

"You know that's not true! Besides, you'd do it in a heartbeat!"

Would he? Sheppard wondered. If faced with the choice, would he die, or glow? But this wasn't proper, this wasn't a fair trial. "When my time comes, maybe. But not now, not like this." He squeezed Rodney's arms tightly. "You're not dead, you're not dying. This place is killing itself and taking us with it. If this city rises, there's no telling what we would unleash. Look, the info I have may be sketchy, but there's plenty of room for doubt. We already have one threat hovering over the city, do you really want to risk another?" Rodney looked at the city falling apart around them, the walls peeling inwards in skinned layers. "She could get us out if she wanted, Rodney. She sent Teyla and Ford back. What makes you think raising the city is safe? What makes you think anything is safe, including you?" His last sentence came out in a desperate whisper, and he saw Rodney's resolve waver.

Dantanunana reappeared at Rodney's shoulder. "You would abandon my people," she accused hotly. "You would throw away all hope, and the chance of a lifetime. You may not get this opportunity again, Rodney McKay. I will not offer it."

There was something in her voice that caught Rodney's attention, and Sheppard saw the light go off in that wonderfully arrogant mind of his. Her voice had the sound of a threat. Threats were never good, they did nothing more than imply pure self-interest.

Sheppard's eyes bore into his, holding his gaze, not allowing him to let go, or even falter. Rodney met that gaze, challenging it to make him change his mind, even as the doubt crept in. They stared at each other for several moments before Rodney slowly turned to Datanunana. He felt Sheppard at his back. "He's right," Rodney said softly. "You could have gotten us out of here. You have us here for a reason, and I don't think it's the crystal." He squinted at her, much the way an artist will squint clarity into the painting he's analyzing. "You said you were a projection of one who was asleep. But I haven't seen any chambers, any storage facilities, anything in the schematics that shows any living quarters for those who were here. Only labs." He saw her stiffen, and saw a flash of rage in the bottomless depth of her gaze. "Who the hell are you?"

"You would do better to. . ."

His hands flew to his head. "No, enough talk, I'm tired of the talk!" He looked up, his expression wild with a sudden instinctive realization that he had tapped into something he wasn't prepared for. "Show me!"

Dantanunana slowly backed away, a dark anger continuing to grow underneath her calm countenance. Rodney felt John shift behind him in warning, which came too late as a thin arm lashed out, flinging the major against the far wall. Rodney spun and watched in horror as John folded into a lump on the floor, but was prevented from running to him by the horrific sight that defiantly blocked his path. His mouth worked, wanting to scream out, but his throat constricted in revulsion. The best he could manage was a squeak, "Oh. . .oh god. . ."

She was a mass of black, writhing, sinuous limbs, all reaching out for him, grasping for him. The room chilled as the form clicked and chattered like brittle bones, revealing dozens upon dozens of incomplete bodies, all lumped into a living grave. The air turned putrid and rank.

Rodney frantically backed around the console and slammed into the wall behind him. A panel slid open, and something tilted to the side and fell heavily against his cheek. He smelled it before he really saw it; a black, rotted, disfigured body that dropped to the floor as he yelled out and backed away. Another panel opened, and he tripped over the body which had fallen out right behind him. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to cry like a petrified child. The creature closed in. Rodney gasped back his terror and crawled over to Sheppard, who was slowly pushing himself to his knees, blissfully unaware of the nightmare bearing down on them.

The major felt himself being pulled to his feet, and the horrific sight that suddenly appeared before him cleared his mind in a way that no adrenaline shot could. "What the hell is that?" He plastered himself back against the wall with Rodney clutching his arm to keep him standing. The wall behind them slid open, and more bodies fell out, this time several packed into one compartment. They collapsed underneath the weight. John felt his stomach revolt as he pushed at the stiff, crusty body off of him, staring into a dead, glazed eye as he did so. He heard Rodney's panic and saw him pulling his legs from a decayed corpse that lay across them. Yet another body tumbled out, a much larger one, landing across John before he could move. Everywhere the walls were opening and expelling their dead citizens.

Rodney crawled over like a scared baby, and with extreme effort and desperate grunting, shoved the corpse from John's chest, helping the major to his feet before they were buried again. The thing before them was watching, and spoke.

"You see what your precious Atlanteans did to us," it said, with a voice like chattering insects. "This was the result of the ascension for those that could not leave behind their burden. This is the price we pay for their success!"

"They left you here? Just like this?" Rodney asked. He was doubled to the side, his fear buckling his knees. John wrapped an arm around his waist.

"We are ready to leave now. Raise the city."

Sheppard's brows crawled to his hairline. "You've got to be kidding me!" It was the wrong answer. The thing reared up like a black spider on the attack, and lunged

John shoved Rodney to the ground and dove, feeling a tearing pain as hard bone grazed his back. Another tremor stopped the creature in its tracks, and John took the brief opportunity to grab Rodney and usher him through the door. "Rings!" he shouted in a gasp, and this time Rodney was in full agreement. They fled down the corridor, hearing the creature bellowing behind them, running in a living nightmare as the station crashed in around them, decaying bodies falling on them from the walls, and as the thing gained ground. John found the room which housed the rings, and pounded his hand on the wall console. The door closed quickly behind them. "Get this thing working!" He pressed his hand to the imprint to activate it, and Rodney set to work on the coordinates. He tapped the controls desperately, his face reflecting the panic John felt.

"I'm locked out, nothing's working!"

"No, of course not! Dammit! I don't believe this!" John allowed himself to slump for a moment, then jumped as static burst in his ear. "What the. . ."

"Major Sheppard!" The voice was a angel from heaven. "This is Teyla, can you hear me?"

"Teyla?" He pressed the radio close to his ear. "Are you shitting me?"

"Major, are you injured?"

"No, I. . .where the hell are you?"

"Your people have discovered yet another submarine. We are still quite some distance from where we last. . ."

But John cut her short. "Teyla, listen to me, this is important! Take the sub back up to Atlantis! We're getting out of here, but this city may rise to the surface, and Dr. Weir has to be prepared! I repeat, return to the station, do you copy?" There was a crackle, then a faint confirmation, possibly from Ford. Sheppard nodded as McKay burst out, "I got it I got it I got it. . .shit!"

"What?"

"I had it."

"Rodney. . ." The large door suddenly dented dead center with the impact of an atomic fist. Both men stopped, glanced at each other, then continued the process of pulling the rings. With an odd whine they descended halfway from the ceiling.

Sheppard stared up at them. "McKay, never thought I'd say this, but I love you. How do these things work?"

"Get inside," he pointed to a circle on the floor, "and don't touch anything!" McKay was fumbling with a few more controls. His hands flew to his ears as a death tone pealed amongst the decayed bodies and echoed through the room. Sheppard doubled over, the wails piercing his senses.

"Rodney!"

"I'm on it. . .go!"

The door dented again. Both men jumped into the circle as the creature burst through. It launched itself at the rings, creating an image of a monster being sliced in parallel bars as the rings fell, then whisked them away. And Rodney knew, in that final bellow, that a voice spoke, "I will have you, Rodney McKay! I will have you!"

Or maybe it was his imagination.

The next thing he knew, he was sore as hell and covered in heavy boxes. He grunted and tried to shift, but it took more effort than he cared for, so he just lay still for a moment, at least until the fear that they hadn't left the underground city took chilly hold of him. The fear prompted him to push with all his might against the stock that had toppled as the rings burst through the warehouse. To his left he heard a moan and a cough, and saw a hand stretching through the debris. He grasped it, and together they uncovered each other and stood painfully. "Weir's gonna be pissed," John commented lightly.

"I just hope we managed to unpack all our equipment, what the hell is all this? Is this even ours?" Rodney tried to match John's tone, but his voice shook. He caught John's stare as they each gathered their bearings, then once again, all hell broke loose, this time in the form of drawn guns, bright lights, and Atlantis personnel.


	13. Chapter 13

Elizabeth was once again playing a waiting game. The sub was returning, but without her chief scientist and military commander. And while her professionalism was enough to keep her in check, it did not prevent her from walking to one of the large observation windows to worry at the huge waves that suddenly rocked the lower levels of the city. She issued an alert, and allowed herself to be mesmerized by the odd circular pattern that had emerged far off in the water. Like something had been destroyed deep, deep below, with the shock wave just reaching the surface. She only had to glance at Johnson to know that he was trying to hail the sub. And that was when she received a call, of all things, of Rodney and John appearing in a storage unit. Over that came calls of lower level flooding to which she responded by evacuating personnel to the higher zones of the city. She watched anxiously, but there was no danger.

The briefing that followed was as strange as her premier team's reappearance. Talk of another underwater city, which Teyla and Ford could not find the second time around, had Weir wondering if there were any more undiscovered structures underneath them. News of the experiments made her question the nature of the Ancients, though it seemed the ascension experiments went wrong only for those that were unworthy, and were henceforth stopped. "What of this Eschu?" she asked a tired, but apparently hungry, Rodney McKay.

He swallowed his bite of turkey sandwich and took a gulp of water before answering while cramming more food into his mouth. "I fink it hafs to do with the scientific protheth they used to attain the. . ." he shook his head and waited until he could swallow to continue. Sheppard and the others seated at the table merely watched with amusement. ". . .the ability to ascend. The Eschu is a map of sorts; I believe it's the same thing Daniel Jackson liked to talk about, he found it on some Jaffa planet or something, to be honest I wasn't paying much attention at the time, but it's something that his Oma Desala apparently followed."

"She was an Ancient?" Ford asked.

Rodney winced at him. "Yes, Ford, she was an Ancient. Actually, she was the first known Ancient we've been in contact with, or rather, Dr. Jackson has been in contact with, though truthfully, whether she's actually an Ancient, or just an ascended being, I'm not clear on. Either way, this was the doctrine she used, so I assume she at least had contact with the former inhabitants. Either that or this doctrine has spread much farther than you may think."

"Meaning there may be others trying to ascend, even now," Teyla remarked.

"Yeah," Sheppard chimed in, "and if they turn out anything like our friend down there, we may have a problem." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the bandages on his back pulling slightly at his skin.

"Evil Ascendants. Just what we need." Rodney shook his head and slapped another bite of turkey into his mouth.

"And this station destroyed itself?" Weir asked.

Rodney nodded and chewed while gesturing to Sheppard with his sandwich still in hand, obviously not giving up his chance at vital nutrition for the perks of a good tale. John smirked and took the cue. "Our theory is that the city was devised as a laboratory, where they took those that wanted to ascend, and put them through the proper schooling and training of the Eschu, hence the scriptures on the walls. It was like a religious lab, and they were religious lab rats. Those that were able to ascend did, and those that couldn't were kept in the city. It wasn't long before the number of those unable to ascend outweighed those that could. They were unstable, and kept away from Atlantis. Obviously this pissed them off, and they vowed to rise and take back Atlantis and get their revenge."

"But that was when the Wraith started their attack," Rodney cut in, "and Atlantis was evacuated. These experiment rejects were put into a sort of stasis, I guess the Atlanteans didn't want to risk sending them to Earth, and had plans of coming back to wake them up. Obviously they didn't return, and everyone ended up dying in stasis."

"Then how is it that the city was alive?" Weir asked, and smiled as Rodney grinned in response, actually setting down his half-eaten sandwich and waggling his lecture finger.

"Ah, see, that's the interesting thing. Somehow, I don't know how, but after all these years of holding semi-ascended beings within her walls, hooked up to her mechanics, everything started to meld. Maybe it has something to do with the ascension process, I'm not sure, but every person in that city_ became_ the city. The walls were infused with a liquid that was a combination of chemical substances used to operate the city initially, and organic material. This combination was literally injected into their neuro-pathways, maybe as a way of waking when the proper time came or sequence of events occurred, I'm not sure, but eventually they were integrated, and I think this is what ultimately killed them."

"You mean when they were trying to escape?" Ford asked.

McKay frowned. "Sorry?"

"I mean, it sounds to me like they were aware of what was going on, and tried to find a way out of there the only way they could."

"Well yeah, but I – oh god." Rodney's eyes widened. "You're right. Of course, you're right."

John leaned forward. "You mean they'd been trying to get out all along, by raising the city. Only they couldn't do it."

"That's because the city," Rodney said slowly, "sucked the life from them, leaving dry husks. Their life fluids were within the walls." He paled. "Dantanunana wasn't just the projection of one that was sleeping," he shared a glance with Sheppard, "In actuality, she was a collective. She _was_ the sleeping, all of them." The image came back, of tangled, rotting limbs, disjointed bodies in one writhing mass. He slowly sat back, his appetite gone.

Weir's face wrinkled slightly in distaste, remembering the earlier description Rodney had given of the semi-ascended creature. "What about the crystal?" she pushed.

"McKay said we had to activate this crystal to get them out," John supplied, sensing that Rodney was in no condition to talk. "Now I'm still not sure if this would have worked, but I wasn't prepared to bring them to the surface without knowing more about them. Needless to say, once we found out what they really were, or were not, there was no way in hell they were coming up." He looked at McKay, who had shoved his sandwich aside and was sitting with his head in his hands. "And there's another thing. This creature was trying its damndest to get Rodney to ascend."

"What?" Weir turned to the distraught scientist. "Rodney, is this true?"

Rodney said nothing for several moments, and it was clear that he was greatly disturbed by whatever realization he'd come to. "They couldn't ascend themselves," he said quietly into his hands, "so. . .I think they needed a piggy back." The gaze that met Elizabeth's was empty.

>

The sea still made him sick. Rodney sighed, leaning over the rail, wondering if he would ever conquer his discomforts, those both physical and mental. He fingered the small canister. Beckett, bless his abrasive, needle-happy Scottish soul, had managed to find five more pills. Five more. He popped the top and shook the pills into his palm. Rolled them around. Felt someone at his right shoulder.

"No more Jackson Pollocks on the pavement then, huh?" Sheppard leaned his elbows on the rail and eyed the medication.

Rodney managed a small laugh. He noticed the Major was standing a bit closer to him now, almost shoulder to shoulder, almost protective. He liked it. It felt safe. "I don't know. Truth is, they never worked that well to being with. You know, you would think with all this medical research, especially within such an advanced program, someone should at least be able to come up with an effective motion sickness pill."

John nodded. He watched as Rodney tossed them listlessly in his hand. "Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of heights?"

Rodney turned. "You're kidding."

"No, really, I am."

"You're a pilot, for god's sake! How can you possibly be afraid of heights?" That, and he was standing a few hundred feet above sea level.

"See, that's the funny thing." Sheppard turned, resting his elbow comfortably on the rail. "In the air, I'm in my element."

"You're in _an_ element."

"Will you let me finish! I'm trying to share a moment here, give me a break!" Rodney gestured, and John continued. "It's a different element, it isn't land or water. It's not like standing on the side of a cliff. In a plane, I don't feel like I'm going to fall. I don't get vertigo. I'm in control." He shrugged and watched the waves in the distance. "Take-off was a bitch, though."

Rodney couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. "You know, I never had an interest in flying. Fast cars, sure. Fast planes? Never thought of it."

"And so you worked for the Air Force."

"I worked for the Pentagon, thank you! But they grew tired of me messing up their codes, so I was eventually transferred to the Stargate program."

"What codes?"

He raised his chin. "It's classified."

John narrowed his eyes at the dodge, and resumed his topic. "Flying the puddlejumper doesn't bother you."

"You either."

"True." He straightened. "You hungry?"

Rodney blinked at the change of conversation. "Not really, why?" What he needed was to get off that balcony. He'd only been out there for five minutes, but any longer and his stomach would start to rebel.

John pushed away from the rail. "I was just heading down for a bite to eat, and wanted some company. Purely selfish motive, seeing as how you stuffed your face earlier."

But Rodney knew better. "Oh, please, like you didn't go straight to the commissary before the meeting. The things you eat, your stomach must be lined with lead or something."

"Just for that, I won't give you my pudding cup." He eyed the pills in Rodney's hand, then glanced up, one brow raised inquisitively.

Rodney rolled the pills in his palm. Might as well face facts, the meds were gone. Better to get used to it now then suffer later. He pulled back, and with a quick snap of his arm he tossed them out to sea. Both men watched as they instantly vanished.

Sheppard nodded and clapped Rodney on the back. "You like chocolate?"

"If there is a living soul here that doesn't, point him out to me and print out his eating schedule." He started to clap Sheppard on the back, and gripped his shoulder instead.

As they walked to the door, he heard Dantanunana's threat. And like the illness that plagued him, he tried to fling it back out to sea.


End file.
